The Two Faces of Hathor
by Sleepwalking Dreamer
Summary: Nearly a year after the events at Ahm Shere, the O'Connell family and Ardeth Bay find themselves once more trying to solve an ancient mystery. At the heart is Catherine Ashlar, the keeper of a dark secret that no one could have ever believed true.
1. Prologue: Legend of Hathor's Two Faces

**The Two Faces of Hathor**

_By: Sleepwalking Dreamer _

__

_A "The Mummy" and "The Mummy Returns" Fan Fiction_

DISCLAIMERS:

_The Mummy_ and _The Mummy Returns_ © Stephen Sommers and Universal Studios

Catherine Ashlar, Andrew Delaney, Erica Ashlar, and Baron William Ashlar © Sleepwalking Dreamer

THE MYTH THAT INSPIRED THIS:

The lion goddess Sekhmet was sent by the gods to destroy mankind. She approached the slaughter with zest. The carnage was well underway when Ra had second thoughts. To slow down the destruction, he took seven thousand jars filled with red beer and poured it on the ground until it resembled a lake of blood. Sekhmet paused to take a sip. Soon, too drunk to threaten anyone, she turned into the cow goddess Hathor and humanity was saved. Sadly, death and disease came into the world at that time.

- taken from page 94 of _The Friendly Guide to Mythology_ by Nancy Hathaway

NOTES:

The artifacts I have mentioned here are not real, though they have been based on actual finds. What I mention also about Mayan religious practices and sacrificial implements is more or less true as well. Still, the magical properties I have given these said artifacts are not grounded in truth, and belong firmly in the realm of the imagination.

As for the idea of the beginnings of Wing Chun, I took it from the Shaolin Gung Fu Institute at www.shaolin.com.

TEASER:

It has been a year since the incident at Ahm Shere and the defeat of the Scorpion King. Richard O'Connell, his wife Evelyn Carnahan-O'Connell, and their son Alex have been living quite peacefully, shuttling between Egypt and London, living the good life of archeologist-adventurers.

It is during this time that Evie receives news that her dear friend and fellow archeologist Catherine Ashlar is arriving from Mexico, to fulfill a long overdue promise that the two of them would somehow find time to meet again. Catherine, who has been in Mexico and China looking for ruins and antiquities, has come to Egypt to see the land that her best friend loves so much – and, of course, to go exploring herself. Accompanied by her friend and fellow archeologist Andrew Delaney, she, Andrew, the Carnahan-O'Connell family, and Ardeth Bay make their way into the desert in search of any ruins that remain to be explored.

They strike gold – in a manner of speaking – at Dendera, where they manage to uncover the entrance to a tomb that lies deep underneath the temple complex. However, the explorers are unaware that the priestess buried in the tomb was the keeper of a powerful and deadly secret, long forgotten even by the Med-jai.

Soon, Catherine finds herself in the middle of a storm of powerful and horrible consequences, a storm that threatens to throw light on the Ashlar family's darkest secret.

* * *

****

**Prologue: The Legend of Hathor's Two Faces**

It has been said that humanity is the root of all the evil in this world. But sometimes, humans are not the source of wickedness. Sometimes, even the gods can make mistakes.

Long ago, Ra sent down Sekhmet, the dread lioness goddess, to destroy humankind, for they had sinned against him and the other gods, and thus he sought vengeance for the slight. Now would humanity know that to treat the gods with disrespect is folly, for they are mighty in their power and can do more harm than any could ever imagine.

And it was so. Sekhmet descended to the world of humans, accompanied by pestilence, disease, death, and a rain of fire and blood. Dark storm clouds followed in her wake, and every evil thing that the earth ever produced came forth onto the world. Dragons that had slumbered in the desert sands roused themselves from their sleep, and ranged beside Sekhmet their mistress as she wandered the earth, slaughtering and killing tens of thousands. Wherever she stepped the earth welled with blood, and every time she swung her sword she killed a hundred able-bodied warriors.

Her rage was at its height, and as the gods watched on, they grew fearful. They feared that if they did not do something, Sekhmet would eventually turn upon them. The gods gathered in council, and all attempted to think of a plan that would stop Sekhmet. Bastet, in whose eyes rise the sun and moon, stepped forth, volunteering to encounter Sekhmet and stay her rampage. But Ra forbid her from doing so, for she was his most favored daughter, and he would not have her do battle against Sekhmet.

And then Isis, wife of Osiris, mother of Horus, and the most beloved goddess of all, came up with a plan. When she put it forth to the gods in council they did not believe that such a simple plan would work, risky in its simplicity. But Ra saw the wisdom in it, in spite of the risks, and so put it into action.

So it was that Ra took several vats of beer, tinted them with red ochre, and poured them all out onto the plains, where it pooled into a great lake. In the hot glow of the fires that rose in the wake of Sekhmet's rampage, it looked like a pool of blood.

Isis' plan worked. Upon seeing what she assumed was a lake of blood, Sekhmet knelt down beside the lake, and began to drink, and drink, and drink some more. In no time, she was intoxicated, and all of her bloodlust left her. As her rage faded away from her, she changed her form, and became she who is now known as Hathor.

Glad to have narrowly escaped an apocalypse, the gods once more met in council to decide what to do with Hathor. It did not take long for them to agree on what should be done. They kept Hathor always in a state between inebriation and sobriety by constantly giving her beer, and they distracted her with music and dance. She especially delighted in the rattle of the sistrum, and the gods were all too willing to give her the music of the instrument.

It was in this manner that the worship of Hathor was established. The gods urged the humans to build a temple in her honor - the temple that is now located at Dendera. And while most of the people of Egypt believed that Hathor was a benevolent goddess, her priestesses knew otherwise. They knew of Hathor's other side, and they aided the gods by offering beer and good food, as well as dancing and music. Most of the common people believed that this was because Hathor represented these pleasures, but nothing could have been farther from the truth.

Still, the priestesses were glad to keep it that way, glad that the other people of Egypt were ignorant of the truth behind Hathor's identity. For they also had in their keeping an artifact that, if it fell into the hands of the wrong people, would awaken the fell war goddess in Hathor, and this time, there would be very little the gods could do to stop her.

Times have changed and fortunes have turned. The priestesses of Hathor no longer live, and they have taken Hathor's secret with them. The last High Priestess' tomb was sealed, and with her was the artifact that could have brought Sekhmet back into the world.

But nothing ever remains secret for long, especially if it is entrusted to humans. And so, in this new age of exploration and discovery of Egypt's past, so the old secrets must come to the light once more. Two have already been opened and quelled - Imhotep and the Scorpion King have been defeated.

Yet the secret of Hathor still slumbers, waiting for a time when she will shake off her stupor and rise once more, not as the laughter-loving goddess of Pleasure and Delight, but as the fell goddess of Destruction.


	2. Chapter One: Letters

**Chapter One: Letters**

She let a tired sigh rush out of her mouth as she tipped her hat back slightly, wiping off the sweat that had collected on her forehead with the back of her left forearm. Her right hand - the one holding the machete - dangled limply against her side, a comfortable ache emanating from the muscles there because of all the hard work she had been doing since early that morning.

It must be noon by now, she thought as she glanced at her feet, checking the shadows that were cast on the jungle floor by the leaves overhead. Judging from the shadows, her estimate was more or less correct. That meant it was time for a well-deserved rest.

She looked around for a convenient seat, and noted a log nearby. After checking it thoroughly for poisonous things such as snakes, insects and frogs, and after convincing herself that no anacondas were in the vicinity, she sat down on it, glad to get her weight off her feet for the time being.

Sticking her machete blade-first into the soft earth in front of her, she slid off her backpack, and reached into it. After a bit of rummaging, she brought out first a small package of dried meat and fruits; a second time brought up some paper; the third yielded a pencil.

Setting the dried foods onto the log beside her, she settled the paper on her lap and poised her pencil over the blank page. After searching the air above her head for words, she grinned, and started writing:

_Somewhere in the jungles of Mexico _

_Dearest Evie,_

_As I write this letter to you I am sitting on a log in the middle of the jungles of Mexico, so I do hope that you will forgive the lack of smoothness in my penmanship. For want of a proper desk I have had to make use of my lap as a writing table, and you know how difficult it is to write in such a manner._

_I hope that you forgive me for not sending you a letter immediately after I received yours. I have not forgotten about you, it is simply that this expedition has taken up so much of my time and energy lately, and it is only now, on the latter end of it, that I have found the time to write back to you._

She paused for a moment, tapping the end of her pencil against her lip. After a while, she started writing again:

_I read about your latest mishap at that Ahm Shere place in your last letter, and I am so very thankful that all of you made it out alive. I do not want to think how Rick and Alex would have taken it if they had lost you. Alex is such a clever boy, and brave as well. Even Jonathan, for once, managed to show some mettle in the face of danger. I hope that, in spite of all of that, you have not lost your love for adventure and archeology._

She paused again, nibbling on a piece of dried meat as she tried to recall Evie's last letter to her. It was a longer wait before she put pencil to paper and started writing again:

_I have had no end of adventures since your last letter. This jungle is dangerous, true, but strangely beautiful at the same time. The heat and humidity can be suffocating sometimes, but all the same, I am glad to be here, and not in foggy England._

_As I said before, everything here is dangerous. Right during the first week of our journey, a giant snake that the locals call an anaconda attacked us as we were crossing a steam in the jungle. Our progress was slow because of our pack mules, which simply refused to cross the river and we were forced to drag them across by their reins. Apparently, they had good reason not to cross, because the moment we had gotten to the middle of the stream an immense snake reared up out of the water and headed straight towards us. We managed to fend it off before it got any of us, fortunately, and Pepito – our guide – assured us that the anaconda is not a poisonous snake. Perhaps I should spare you some of the details for some other time, but I wish to have you know that I now have a rather large scar on my shoulder from where the anaconda bit me._

She stopped writing then, her hand unconsciously drifting to her shoulder and rubbing it slightly. The bite was no longer painful, and it had healed already, but the memory lingered at the back of her mind at what had nearly happened.

Catching herself then, she quickly went back to writing:

_The ruins here are incredible, Evie. How I wish you were here with me - you would have loved it, I'm certain! Did you know that there are pyramids here as well? Yes, in the middle of the jungle, of all places! And we have found mummies too, though they are not buried in the pyramids, and I am certain that they are very different from the mummies in Egypt._

_We have also found many artifacts, and we also found what we think is a royal tomb, judging from the amount of gold and other precious goods that we found with the mummy. We are at the final stages of collecting and packing the artifacts, though it will probably be a month before I am able to make arrangements for a visit to Egypt._

_I miss you so much, Evie. Exploring ruins and looking for artifacts just is not the same without you. I wish I could have a chance to explore a few Egyptian ruins with you when I get there, for old time's sake. Besides, it would give me a chance to get to know your family and friends a little better._

_I also realize that I owe you several presents, and I promise to bring them to Egypt when I go and visit. I hope that you will like them, since they are quite unique and I would not part with them if they were to be given to any other person save you and your family._

She heard voices then, calling her name. She rolled her eyes, sighing. Couldn't these people do anything without her? Knowing now that she had to hurry, she scribbled more quickly on the paper now:

_I am sorry to cut this so short, but I can hear Andrew and the others calling me, and I have to go back to them. Say hello to Rick for me, and hug Alex for me when you can. Erica sends her love._

_Always your friend,_

_Cathy_

Catherine Ashlar re-read her letter, and after finding it to her satisfaction, she folded it, and tucked it back into her pack, along with the other sheets of paper and her pencil. That accomplished, she reached back for the dried foods, and proceeded to eat in earnest, sipping from the canteen of water that she always toted with her on her belt.

The voices that had been calling her name got closer, and in a few moments, she saw Andrew Delaney and their Indian guide Pepito standing at the edge of the clearing.

She grinned as she waved at them. "I'm over here boys!"

Spotting her, Andrew jogged up to her, his green eyes sparkling with barely concealed amusement though the rest of his face was stern. "I thought I told you never to go wandering around by yourself." His Scottish accent, still as prominent as ever, also took the edge away from his words - not that there was any edge in them to begin with.

Catherine shrugged as she flashed him a rather cheeky grin. She popped another piece of dried meat into her mouth, chewed a little, and then spoke while the piece of meat was still in her mouth. "And do you have a problem with that?"

"No, but I do have a problem with you talking with your mouth full," Andrew replied as he sat down next to her - but not before checking if he was going to sit on anything dangerous or painful. After assuring himself that there was nothing on the log, he relaxed, and fixed Catherine with a withering gaze. "Now I know that you have been away from some respectable company for far too long. Imagine, the daughter of a baron talking with her mouth full!"

Catherine rolled her eyes, and swallowed. "Oh shut up." She took a swig from the canteen of water before she spoke again. "Besides, you know that I avoid all 'respectable company,' as you so eloquently put it, because they are not the sort of company I like to keep."

"Ah yes, and you would rather keep the company of dubious gold-diggers who are after your title and your very substantial inheritance?" Here, Andrew wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Catherine laughed then. Her father, Baron William Ashlar, had described Andrew in those very same words.

Hard, bitter memories swelled into her mind when she thought of her father, and consequently of England. To her, England had never been bustling, cosmopolitan London, or the wide plain of Salisbury where the ancient ring of stones rose over the flatness of the field. To her, England was the old manor where she had grown up, and her father.

Don't go there Cathy, she told herself, and shifted her mind quickly away. She nodded towards the east, where she had been hacking away at the vines. In the middle of the cleared area there stood a low stone well, the outside covered in beautiful, intricate reliefs. There was a thick layer of duckweed on the surface, but beneath that the water was clean and cool. "You see that?"

Andrew looked up, and followed her gaze. He squinted, as if not believing what he was seeing. "Is that a well?"

"It is." Catherine turned to Pepito. "Pepito, what do you make of that?"

"It is a holy well," Pepito, explained, his voice soft and deferential when speaking to the lady who not only paid him well, but treated him well too. "In our legends, this place was once the center of the old pagan worship that the Spaniards forced our ancestors to abandon. The waters of that well are supposed to have healing properties."

Cathy nodded as she nibbled on a piece of dried fruit. "Do you think there are temples here? Tombs?"

"I believe so. Wells have always been sacred places, and where there is a well, there will always be a temple."

Andrew chuckled, and shook his head. "You just never stop. We are loaded with treasure and artifacts, and still you go looking for more. When will you be satisfied?"

"It's not the gold that attracts me," Cathy replied as she wrapped up the remainder of her food, and placed it back into her bag. "It's the knowledge that could potentially be hidden in these ruins. And my thirst for knowledge is something that I can never satisfy."

"I know." Andrew reached over, and patted her on her back before he stood up, brushing off any dirt that had clung to his durable khaki-colored trousers. "Well, looks like we'd better get moving. If we want to find that temple that should be around here somewhere, then we ought to start clearing some more jungle to get to it."

Catherine saw Andrew's point. After taking one last sip of water, she picked up her machete, and strode towards what looked like an impenetrable wall of vines and branches. In a few moments, debris was flying everywhere as she, Andrew and Pepito hacked their way into the forest.

* * *

"Ma'am, a few letters have arrived."

Evelyn "Evie" Carnahan-O'Connell blinked at Francine, the housekeeper they had hired to keep house for them while they were in Egypt. "Thank you. Where did you leave them?"

"On your desk in the library ma'am, as usual."

Evie smiled, and nodded her thanks to Francine before sending her off to her rest. It was a late night, and Evie had just gotten home from the Cairo Museum, where she had been busy cataloguing the museum's growing collection of artifacts, as well as using the resources there to identify and catalog the artifacts that she and her husband Richard "Rick" O'Connell had found over the years.

Just like her maid told her, there were two letters resting on her table in the library. She sat down on the chair, and picked them up. One envelope was crisp and clean; the other seemed quite battered and the envelope was stained. Deciding to read the former first, Evie realized that it was a letter from Jonathan, saying that he was leaving London at the end of the week to come to Egypt. He mentioned that he was being sent by the British Museum to oversee a dig at Dendera, which was far to the south of Cairo, on the East Bank of the Nile.

Evie smiled. She knew that Jonathan would want to stay in their house instead of at a hotel, but Rick would not be pleased about that arrangement. Well, it's not as if he can do anything about it, she thought. After all, Jonathan was her brother, and her husband had no right to kick him out simply because he disliked the man.

She then turned her attentions to the second envelope. When she flipped it over and read the name of the person who had sent it, she felt a wave of happy surprise rush through her. She tore open the envelope, and as she read the letter, a grin grew on her face until it could have touched her ears.

Taking the letter with her, she scrambled up to the second floor of the house, where she knew Rick would be. "Rick! Rick! Oh my goodness, this is wonderful!"

Rick poked his head out of Alex' room. He blinked at her in a rather puzzled manner. "Evie? What's with the rush? What're you so excited about?"

Evie bounded towards him, hugging and kissing him for a moment, before she started talking. "You remember my friend Cathy? You know, Catherine Ashlar?"

Rick nodded slowly. "Yeah, you mentioned her to me a couple months ago, I think."

"Well, the last time we saw each other - and that was very, very long ago, mind you - Cathy and I made a promise: that when we found time we would see each other again. We still wrote to each other, but we never did have the chance to go see each other because of our responsibilities. But now, she's promised to come and visit in a month or so! Isn't that exciting!"

Rick grinned. "Yeah, sounds wonderful. Where is she, by the way?"

Evie handed him Catherine's letter. "When she wrote this she was in the middle of some jungle in Mexico, looking for ruins. That's where she's been the last five years or so."

Rick took the letter, and read it quickly. Evie noticed his eyebrow go up slightly in curiosity and interest - obviously he had gotten to the part where Catherine mentioned pyramids and mummies in the jungle. He glanced up at Evie. "She said she's bringing presents."

Evie nodded, images dancing in her head. "I know. I wonder what she will bring?"

"Not anything cursed, I hope. I've had enough Egyptian mummies to deal with without adding those of the Mexican variety to the mix."

Evie slapped her husband on the arm, but she smiled, and embraced him. "I don't think she'll be bringing over anything cursed. And besides, I doubt she'd give us anything cursed as a gift."

"It's a great way to unload something you don't want."

"Oh Rick, stop being so negative! Cathy's not like that, you'll see!"

"You hope."

"_Rick_!"


	3. Chapter Two: Welcome to Egypt

**Chapter Two: "Welcome to Egypt…"**

He grumbled Gaelic swear words under his breath as he mopped the sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. After the dry coolness of China, and the humid warmth of Mexico, the dry heat of the Giza Port in Cairo was not the least bit pleasant. "It's damn hot here, Cathy."

Catherine looked at him with a teasing smile on her face. "I'm surprised to hear that coming from your mouth, after the time we spent in the jungle."

"Well at least it was wet. This is _dry_, and it doesn't feel very comfortable." He glanced over his shoulder, and watched as a group of men unloaded their luggage and the crates of artifacts that Catherine intended to give as presents to her friend, Evelyn Carnahan-O'Connell. Surprisingly, the crates outnumbered the luggage - that was something a little odd, given that he was traveling with a woman, and the heir to her father's title, at that.

Then again, Catherine Ashlar did not, in any way, fit in the mold of the typical British aristocrat. She preferred wearing trousers and shirts as opposed to the fancy confections that Andrew had seen some women wear in London. She preferred to go digging for ruins or hacking her way through the jungle in search of them, rather than sitting at home and having tea with high society.

Neither was she a traditional beauty. She was considered far too tall for the conventions of the British aristocracy. She also had none of the soft lushness that was appreciated in women: she often appeared to be too gangly, too skinny, too long-limbed. Whatever she had by way of breasts and hips was minimal, further adding to her gangly image.

The only thing that people considered beautiful about her was her face. Her striking gray eyes - something she had inherited from her father - were quite large, and framed thickly by long, black lashes. Her nose was fine and elegant, and gave sharpness to her features, which would have been judged far too soft because of her eyes and her lovely lips.

Catherine moved to stand beside him then, her hands resting comfortably on her hips as she watched the carriers unload the crates. "We can't bring all of these with us to the hotel," she said quietly. "Maybe we ought to just go straight to Evie's house, leave the crates there, and then go to the hotel."

Andrew stared at her. "You cannot be thinking of doing that, Cathy. You can't just drop by without warning your friend!"

Catherine shook her head, and waved her hand. "Oh, I'm sure she wouldn't mind if I dropped by without informing her first. She knows that I'd be visiting anytime this month." She grinned wickedly. "And besides, I want to surprise her."

Andrew was about to argue the wisdom of such a move, when a loud noise came from somewhere further down the road. He turned to look, and blinked.

A rather skinny man who looked like he was in his mid-thirties was being accosted by a group of men burly-looking and gun-toting men, and it looked like they were very, very angry.

"I _told_ you already: I have absolutely _no_ idea what you are talking about!" The skinny man looked around, as if trying to see if anyone would help him, but apparently, no one would.

The leader of the gang - a heavy-set fellow who seemed to be all shoulders and no neck - snarled at the skinny man. "Stop lying, you filthy little weasel! I know you have it on you!"

Andrew rolled his eyes, shaking his head. The scenario was nothing new to him; he had seen it happen all the time, in many different places - and usually, it ended up with the thief, innocent or otherwise being pummeled to the ground.

But what surprised him to no end was that Catherine was striding her way towards the commotion, pulling her hat low over her face as she did so.

His jaw dropped as he watched her. What in hell's name did she think she was doing?! Didn't she know just what sort of trouble she was getting herself into? It was as if she hadn't learned _anything_ at all from her experience in Shanghai, when he first met her.

"I think it would be a good idea for you gentlemen to leave him alone."

Andrew snapped back to reality. Catherine had placed herself between the skinny man and the bigger ones. If he ever thought Catherine was insane, _this_ certainly confirmed his suspicions! Why was she protecting a total stranger?

The skinny man seemed to gasp, and then he uttered a name. "Cathy!"

Andrew blinked. This man knew Catherine?

Catherine looked over her shoulder at the man, a wry grin spreading on her face. "Gotten yourself into another fine mess, haven't you, Jon?"

Now things were getting _very_ confusing. Catherine knew this man - Jon, as she had called him - and he knew her as well? But Catherine had never mentioned someone named Jon to him before...

"Out of the way, girl," snarled the large man, and his hand shot out to grab Catherine by the collar and toss her out of the way. But she smoothly dodged, and the man tripped over himself, his body thrown forward by the momentum of his movement.

Andrew strode over to stand beside Catherine. He gave her a stern look. "Since when did you decide to play the hero?"

"Since I realized that this was my friend." Catherine gestured to the skinny man behind her. "This is Jonathan Carnahan, Evie's brother. I don't know what sort of trouble he's gotten himself into, but I know that I have to get him out of it."

"What if he deserves to get into trouble?"

Catherine opened her mouth to argue, but the bright steel of a sword blade cut right between her and Andrew.

Andrew swore loudly, but instinct and training took hold. He lashed out with his right arm, catching the sword-user's arm above the elbow, thus immobilizing him to a certain extent. Hooking his feet behind his opponent's ankles, he sent the large man crashing down to the ground, dislocating his sword arm in the process.

Straightening up, he turned around to look for Catherine, but she was nowhere to be found. A thread of panic wended its way through him, tightening its noose around his throat.

"Cathy!"

* * *

Catherine ran through the narrow streets and alleyways of the town that had sprouted up around the Giza port, taking random turns in the hopes that she would be able to lose the idiots who were chasing her and Jonathan.

She glanced at her companion, who seemed more than glad to get away from his assailants. "Just _what_ did you take from them, Jonathan?"

Jonathan chuckled nervously. "Ah, well, let's just say that it's something quite valuable to me."

"It was something that belonged to Evie, and then you lost it in a bet, so now you have used your dubious charms to get it back."

Jonathan blinked. "How did you know?"

"I didn't." She halted then, and looked around. They had reached an intersection, and she could either go left or right. "Which way should we go?"

Jonathan looked left, then right, and then left again. "Erm... Maybe we should go left."

Catherine nodded, and the two of them started running down the left-hand alley. But, as she turned round the next corner, she collided painfully with one of the thugs that had been chasing her and Jonathan.

With a screech she landed on the ground, knocking Jonathan down with her. She cursed her reflexes and her senses, knowing that she should have been faster in reacting, rather than running smack into their pursuers. Moreover she cursed herself for not bringing her swords with her the moment she and Andrew had disembarked from the ship. The Giza Port was not exactly the safest place in the world, especially for foreigners, and she knew she should have had enough common sense to remember that and bring at least one of her swords with her when they got off the ship.

She glared up at the thug as he drew a dagger from his belt, leering maliciously at her. "Well, well, well! Not only do we catch the weasel, but we get a vixen too!" He licked his lips as he raked his gaze up and down her body, and Catherine would have loved nothing more than to kick him in his groin, but she couldn't exactly do that in this narrow alley, where it would be easy for her assailant to knock her down again.

"If you so much as breathe on me I'll make you regret it," she muttered, glaring ferociously up at the thug.

The man let out a loud, disgusting laugh. He said something in Arabic that Catherine knew in her bones was not very pleasant, and then he said, in English: "But even if you are as skinny as a twig, you have a pretty face, and that is enough." So saying, he reached his grubby hand out towards her.

She then heard a loud whooshing sound, a sound that Catherine recognized as something very, very sharp moving through the air at high speeds. She flattened herself against the ground, noting that Jonathan had done the same, and heard someone scream in pain. Before she had time to look up, she felt strong fingers grasp her by her elbow, and lift her up from the dusty ground.

"What in the-" She was about to demand whoever it was had pulled her up to let her go, but her words died on her tongue when she gazed into twin dark, smoldering pools.

Whatever anger she had felt at the insult of being hauled to her feet like a sack of corn meal melted away when she looked into what she now believed were the most incredible eyes she had ever seen. "Who are you?" she asked softly.

"I am afraid that we do not have time for introductions right now. We must hurry and make our escape before the others come." The voice that spoke those words was deep, almost sensual in the way that they were accented and cadenced. If warm honey could be made into a voice, she was sure that it would sound like this.

And then it suddenly dawned on her: the accent was Arabic, meaning that this man was an Arab. The sharp realization of that fact made her want to get away from him. She struggled against his firm grasp, suddenly wanting to be anywhere _but_ near him. "Let me go!"

All of a sudden, Jonathan appeared at the strange Arab's side. "Don't worry Cathy, Ardeth's a friend. We can trust him."

Catherine blinked. Ardeth? Hadn't Evie mentioned that name somewhere in her letters?

A gunshot rang out from nearby. The man who was still holding her arm in a death grip tugged her forward, insistent enough to make her know his intentions, but not enough to make her fall forward. "Come! We must hurry!"

Catherine nodded at the promptings, and ran, being tugged this way and that by the man Jonathan had called Ardeth, since the fellow hadn't yet let go of her arm.

And then, she remembered Andrew. "Wait!" she cried as she tugged against Ardeth's grip. "I have to go back! I have to go get my friend!"

"There is no time!" Ardeth hissed at her as he tugged her more forcefully.

"But I can't just leave him there!" Catherine pulled against him again, knowing that she was probably getting bruises already, and not caring in the least.

Ardeth's eyes flickered with irritation, and Catherine sensed that his patience was beginning to run thin. "Is this Andrew a very tall man with green eyes and a strange accent?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then you need not worry; he will be alright." He pulled her again, and this time, his actions and the tone of his voice showed that he would brook no argument from her.

The three of them emerged on what seemed to be another end of the port town, and she spotted a taxi waiting for them there. Before she could do anything, she was pushed into the back seat of the taxi, and Jonathan shoved in next to her. Ardeth spoke rapidly in Arabic to the driver, hearing the name "O'Connell" spoken in there somewhere. The driver nodded, and when Ardeth had moved away from the taxi he stepped on the gas pedal and was off in a flash.

Indignant at the way she had been unceremoniously pushed into the car, worried about Andrew, and very much in pain from the handling she had received, she twisted around in her seat to give that arrogant bastard a piece of her mind - only to find that Ardeth was no longer there.

Huffing, she straightened in her seat, and glanced at Jonathan, who only smiled wanly at her, and shrugged. "Welcome to Egypt, Cathy."


	4. Chapter Three: Reunions and Introduction...

**Chapter Three: Reunions and Introductions**

Evie glared at her older brother as she took the golden statuette of Bastet from his hands. "Jonathan, I cannot _believe_ that you can get yourself into so much trouble! I thought that after the British Museum hired you as their liaison here in Egypt, you'd never get into trouble again!" As she spoke, she strode back to the study, where the statuette had originally been placed.

What am I ever going to do with him, Evie wondered as she placed the statuette back in its place on the shelf between the golden Ra and Isis statuettes.

She moved back slightly, glad to have the set complete. The three sculptures had been found all together in a beautiful ivory-inlaid ebony chest, when she, Rick, and Alex went to Bubastis two months ago, where they had discovered an entirely new series of tombs and chambers buried below the cat mummy catacombs. Although there were records of an underground resting place having been built for the priestesses who served Bastet, no one had ever been able to find it. Some believed that it had collapsed in on itself during the earthquake that had nearly destroyed Bubastis in 2770 B.C., and that it would never be found again.

But, as she, Rick, and Alex had discovered, the underground tombs had not been ruined at all. They intended to go back again once they had been granted permission by the museum, which should not be long in coming.

"Come on Evie!" Jonathan protested. He had followed her into the study, and was now standing beside her. "At least I got it back."

Evie sighed, and rolled her eyes, but she smiled briefly at Jonathan. "Yes, I suppose you're right. And at least you didn't get hurt."

Jonathan grinned. "Well, I have Cathy to thank for that. And Ardeth too."

Evie nodded in agreement. She had been very much surprised when Jonathan showed up in a taxi, and with Catherine in tow. Her best friend was currently upstairs in one of the spare bedrooms, washing up and changing into cleaner clothes.

"Have I missed anything?"

Evie looked up, and smiled broadly when she saw Catherine standing at the doorway, looking refreshed after a bath and a clean change of clothes. "Cathy!"

Catherine smiled, and she walked up to Evie to give her a fond hug. "Oh Evie, I've really, really missed you."

"And I you." Evie stepped back, and the two of them shared a giggle as Evie gazed up a little at her dear best friend. Catherine was taller than her, about as tall as Ardeth, now that she thought about it, but not nearly as tall as Rick - that would have been a little too much. She was also quite thin - bony, Evie mused - and made her cheekbones show more prominently. That, Evie knew, was a sign that Catherine had not been eating very well.

She patted Catherine on the hip, feeling the bone sticking out more prominently than was normal. "You haven't been eating much, have you?"

Catherine laughed ruefully as the three of them sat down. "Well, it's been a hard life these past few years, going through the jungle and chopping my way through it to get to the ruins."

"That does it then: I will have to make sure that you put some meat on your bones while you're here," Evie said with a smile. Suddenly, she wondered if Catherine would like to try some Egyptian cuisine, while she was here, and she made a mental note to herself to get Francine to whip something up while Catherine was around.

Catherine raised an eyebrow. "How are you supposed to do that when I will be staying in a hotel?"

"Who said that you were going to stay in a hotel? No, you are staying in this house, where I can make sure you eat and get you to tell me stories about what you have been doing halfway around the world. And don't you argue with me," Evie cut in when Catherine opened her mouth to protest. "I haven't seen you in a long time, and you owe me stories."

"But I've got a friend with me," Catherine said then. "I told you about him, remember? Andrew Delaney?"

Evie waved her hand dismissively. "It will be _fine_, Cathy! He can stay here too, if he wants." She wiggled her eyebrows teasingly. "Do I have to give him an adjoining room to yours?"

Catherine's mouth dropped open. "What are you trying to imply, Evelyn?! Andrew is _not_ my lover!"

Jonathan blinked. "Really? You could have fooled me, Cathy."

"_Jon_!"

"Uh, what's all the hubbub about?"

Evie looked over her shoulder, and smiled as Rick stepped into the room. "Well now, you're back early."

Rick nodded and smiled as he approached, lifting an envelope in the air as he did so. "Just got permission from the museum. We can go with Jonathan to Dendera." As he handed the envelope to Evie, he leaned down to brush a kiss on her lips - one that Evie willingly accepted.

"Mmm, that's good news," Evie murmured as she tucked the envelope away in a safe place. She turned to Catherine, and grinned brightly. "Cathy, I'd like you to meet my husband, Richard O'Connell. Rick, this is my best friend, Catherine Ashlar."

Catherine smiled as she stood up, holding her hand out to Rick. "A pleasure to meet you at last, Mr. O'Connell. Evie has told me much about you in her letters."

* * *

The first thing Rick thought when he saw Catherine Ashlar was that she was tall - almost too tall. She's probably as tall as Ardeth, he thought. The second thing he noticed was that she was thin - maybe a little too thin. Compared to Evie, who was prettily petite and had curves in all the right places, Catherine wasn't quite as beautiful. I could snap her in two like a twig, he thought.

That changed somewhat, of course, when he shook her hand. The way she grasped his fingers - firm and confident - told him that she was a woman who was sure of herself, in spite of her physical flaws, and the calluses on her palms and fingers told him that she was no stranger to hard work. At least she wasn't some stuck-up English lady who looked down on people like him.

He smiled at her, relaxing at the thought. "Pleasure's all mine, Ms. Ashlar. Or should that be Lady Ashlar?"

She chuckled in response. "Just Cathy, or Catherine if you must. I never did like formalities."

"Then just call me Rick."

Just then, the sound of the front door opening echoed down the foyer to the study, and they heard voices. One Rick recognized as Ardeth's. The other was an unfamiliar one, and sounded Scottish.

Apparently, Catherine was familiar with the mysterious person, because she smiled brightly, and called out the mystery person's name. "Andrew! We're over here!"

In no time flat, a man appeared in the doorway of the study. He was quite tall, an inch or two taller than Rick, and had piercing green eyes with a head of dark brown curls to match. The way he stood and the way he walked told Rick that this man was like him: an adventurer.

The man - apparently called Andrew - smiled in relief when he saw Catherine. "Thank God you're safe and sound, Cathy!"

Catherine laughed. "I'm fine, Andrew." She winked at him. "You know me: I can get myself out of trouble just as easily as I can get myself into it!"

Andrew shook his head, and rolled his eyes, but when he looked at Catherine again, he was smiling. "So you do, lass."

Catherine lightly punched him on the arm, and then she turned to Rick and Evie. "Oh, and before I go on: Evie, Rick, Jon, this is my best friend and colleague, Andrew Delaney. Andrew, these are Richard O'Connell, Evelyn Carnahan-O'Connell, and Jonathan Carnahan."

Rick shook hands with the man, liking the firm grip that he exerted when he grasped Rick's hand, as well as the work-roughened feel of them. Like Catherine, Andrew was someone who was sure of himself, and wasn't afraid of hard work. "Great to meet you."

Just then, a dark figure appeared in the doorway. Rick looked up, and grinned when he saw that it was Ardeth. "Ardeth, old buddy! Good to see you here!"

The Medjai chieftain offered a small smile, and bowed in greeting. "It is good to see you as well, O'Connell." He turned to Evie, and smiled and bowed as well. "I hope that you do not mind my presence, Evelyn."

Evie waved her hand. "Oh Ardeth, stop that! You know you're always welcome in our house." She turned to Catherine then, and smiled. "I suppose you've met Catherine already?"

* * *

Ardeth turned to look at the young woman, and he shook his head. "I am afraid that we have not had the time to be properly introduced."

Her eyes were gray - steel-gray, and keen as the edge of his sword. He could see the glimmer of intelligence, and the sparkle of wit in her eyes, and he knew that this woman was a match for any man in verbal sparring.

She smiled, and walked up to him, her stride confident and sure. Indeed, he thought, she is a match for any man. It was only when she was standing two feet away from him did he realize that she was rather tall - as tall as he was.

And for Ardeth Bay, who was used to being the dominating figure around females, that fact was a little discomfiting.

"Well, we did not have the time, all things considered," she said softly, in response to his previous statement. She held her hand out to him. "I am Catherine Ashlar. But please, call me Cathy, or Catherine, if you really must."

Ardeth gazed at her outstretched hand, a little at a loss about what to do. Should he kiss her hand, as he knew was custom amongst the nobility of the English? Or did he simply shake it? After all, she was so much like O'Connell in her attitude and her personality that perhaps there was no need for formalities with her.

In the end, he decided to kiss her hand, just to be sure. He bent down over her hand, and brushed his lips over her knuckles briefly. "I am pleased to meet you, Lady Catherine."

She laughed softly, and he looked up at her, wondering whether he had made some mistake. But her eyes were kind when they looked at him. Her smile was bemused. "It's been quite a while since someone kissed my hand that way."

"Well you have been away from England long enough to forget about it," teased the dark-haired Scotsman named Andrew, whom Ardeth had helped make an escape from the thugs who had attacked Jonathan. As Ardeth straightened up, Andrew smiled at him, and shook his hand. "If it weren't for him I think I'd still be very busy at the port."

Catherine nodded. "Yes, I must thank you for helping me and Andrew here. You saved our lives. We both owe you a debt of gratitude."

Ardeth shook his head. "No, you owe me nothing. I was glad to be of help to you, who are friends of my friends."

Just then, the housekeeper came in, and said that lunch was ready for them in the dining room. As they all shuffled out of the study, Ardeth's thoughts constantly turned to the woman who walked and laughed with Evie, wondering to himself why her gray eyes, sharp as steel, seemed to constantly lure him and spin his mind away from duty and towards other things he had long not thought of.

He shook his head to clear it. I am merely startled by her eyes, he told himself. He had not seen that particular shade of gray in the eyes of any foreigner.

A hand clasped his shoulder, and when he looked up, he realized that it was Rick.

The American gave him a concerned look. "You okay, buddy?"

"Yes. Yes, I am fine," Ardeth, replied.

Rick nodded. "Okay." He grinned then. "Come on, let's get to the dining room. I'm starving."

Ardeth chuckled, and followed Rick to the dining room.

* * *

CREDITS:

The information on Bubastis came from _The Encyclopedia of Ancient Egypt _by Margaret Bunson.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT:

I wish to thank the following, who left reviews on this fan fic:

**Mommints** - I thank you for following my story thus far. I am very grateful for your praise, especially with my portrayal of the canon characters and the general plot of the story.

I have been to your website, and I have seen your "stable of warriors," as you so put it. I have a feeling I will want to borrow one of those fine stallions, since I have quite a few mares prancing around in my head who wish to be given some time on the written page - Catherine was simply one of those mares. But that is still a long way in coming, since I am quite preoccupied with writing out this story.

**Nakhti - **I am honored that you speak well of my story. I dropped by your profile page, and I am quite pleased to see that you are taking a Master's in Literature. I am taking up Literature as well, but still in the undergraduate level, though I do hope to take my Master's as soon as I graduate.

Again, I thank you for speaking well of my story, and I hope that you will continue to follow it when you have the time. Oh, and I hope that you will write that _Lord of the Rings_ fan fiction piece soon; I will be keeping my eye out for that one.

**LOTRgurl** - I thank you for your compliment, and I am glad that you find this story interesting. It is amazing, really, the things one can find when one is reading.

**Julie** - I am glad that you like Cathy's character. I had some qualms about introducing a new character into the storyline, but I am happy that she is one of the select few of original characters that you like. Again, I thank you.

**Fan of the Mummy** - Thank you for being the first to review this story, and for convincing me that someone will read it.


	5. Chapter Four: Stories and Recollections

**Chapter Four: Stories and Recollections**

"It was during the third week of the expedition, and we were still traveling into the jungle to get to the ruins. Well, we had to cross this stream on foot, since the water was only thigh-high and shallow enough for us to do so, and the current wasn't that strong. We had trouble getting our pack mules to cross the stream - perhaps they sensed that the anaconda was around, I am not certain. But at any rate, we were making rather slow progress, since we had to forcefully pull the mules across. I had just reached middle of the steam, when something slippery grabbed my ankle from underwater, and pulled me under."

Alex listened with fascination as his Aunt Catherine told stories of her adventures in the jungles of Mexico. Well, Catherine really wasn't his aunt in that she was related to his mother and Uncle Jonathan or his father, but she was his mother's best friend, and that, according to Evie, was good enough reason for him to consider her his aunt.

"I was helpless as could be. I didn't know what was going on, or what had gotten hold of me. I thought at first that it was Andrew playing a very bad prank on me, but when I kicked at the thing that was holding my leg I realized that it could not be a person.

"I managed to poke my head above the surface of the water before my lungs gave out on me, and when I did, there was this enormous head looming over me, with yellow eyes that had slits for pupils."

Alex listened with rapt attention to his aunt. He focused entirely on her and on the story. "And then?"

"Needless to say, I was frightened out of my wits," Catherine continued with a rather embarrassed smile. "I kicked and struggled, but the anaconda simply coiled itself more tightly around me. That's how anacondas and pythons kill their prey, you see: they strangle them to death, and then swallow them whole.

"So there I was, about to become this giant snake's meal, and I was making such a ruckus, screaming and squirming and generally being a very troublesome supper. Perhaps that was why it bit right into my shoulder - a way of calming me down so that it could eat me already."

"Was that the bite you told me about in your letter?" Evie asked then, and Alex saw the horror clearly imprinted on his mother's face.

Catherine gave a small smile. "Yes, that was the one. And I am glad that was all that happened, really. If Andrew and the others hadn't come along and shot the snake into letting me go, I think that my bones would be lying somewhere in the jungle."

"Can I see the scar?" Alex asked then, his face brightening up in anticipation.

Evie shushed him. "Alex! That's very rude!"

Alex pouted. "But Mum! I just want to see!" It still amazed him that someone as skinny as Catherine could have survived an attack like that. He also wondered what the snake was thinking - after all, it couldn't have gotten much out of Catherine, seeing how thin she was.

Catherine laughed. "Oh Evie, there's nothing rude about that. He's just curious, that's all." She winked at Alex across the table. "I'll show it to you in a while, when everyone's finished eating and we can go to the drawing room. You can have a look at it while Andrew brings in the crates."

Alex blinked. "Crates? What crates?"

"The crates of presents for you and your parents, laddie boy," Andrew answered, giving Catherine a small, wry smile from across the table. "Why do you insist on me doing all the heavy work?"

"Because you are a big, strong man," Catherine replied while playfully batting her eyelashes at the Scotsman before laughing out loud.

Andrew rolled his eyes as he wiped his mouth with the napkin, and stood up. "Ah, the things you make me do for you." Nevertheless, he smiled, showing that he did not take it against her, and headed out of the dining room.

Evie glanced at Rick, and the latter rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine, I'll help him." He put his napkin down, and walked out of the dining room, catching up quickly to Andrew.

Alex watched as Ardeth - he never thought to call the Medjai warrior "Uncle," it just didn't seem to suit him - made a move to stand up as well and follow the two other men, but Evie cut him off by saying, "There's no need to go after them to help, Ardeth. They'll be fine on their own."

Instead, Evie stood up, and gestured towards the direction of the study. "Come along everyone. We'll wait for the two gallant gentlemen to bring in whatever it is you brought with you, Cathy."

Catherine laughed then. "Gallant? I certainly thought Andrew was that when we first met, but then something happened that same day we met that made me doubt my initial assessment."

"How did you meet Andrew?" Ardeth asked, and Alex noted that his voice seemed to have gone a little softer, a little more deferential, when he was speaking to Catherine. Maybe it's because Aunt Cathy's a baroness, he thought.

Evie seemed to be just as curious as Ardeth, because she smiled as the four of them took their places in the study: Catherine in one of the armchairs, Alex next to Evie on the couch, and Ardeth standing just a little away from the couch.

Alex watched as his mother nodded encouragingly at Catherine. "Yes, please, do tell us how you met Andrew."

* * *

Catherine nearly laughed at the eagerness she saw on Evie's face. Did she expect to hear something romantic? It was something that Catherine wondered about, but now that she thought about it, her first meeting with Andrew _was_ quite romantic, after a fashion.

She leaned against the backrest of the armchair, and looked slightly up to the ceiling as she began recollecting memories from seven years ago. "Well, as best as I can recall, it happened this way..."

_The port of Shanghai was unlike any she had ever been to. Everything was different: the sights, the sounds, and the smells - oh, the smells! She inhaled deeply, a dreamy expression drifting over her face. She could smell the strong fragrance of tea, and spices, and exotic food. The balmy perfume of the sea was quite strong here, too, and everything blended together to make a mélange so rich and heavy she felt that she could get drunk on it alone._

_Here I am, in a port in the Orient, off on my first great adventure, she thought excitedly as she fixed her hat tighter on her head. She had everything to look forward to, and nothing to lose or miss in England._

_The knot in the pit of her stomach tightened a little when she thought of England, and, consequentially, of Erica. She did miss Erica, but it was not like they would remain out of contact forever. Now that she was in a boarding school whose headmistress Catherine trusted, it would not be difficult to keep in touch with her. _

_And that was when it hit her: she was no longer tied to anything or anyone back in England. She was now independent of her father and of her family. There was no more need to hide, no more need to lie and pretend. _

_Freedom. It had been something she craved for so long, something that she thought she would never have. And now that she had it, it seemed almost too good to be true._

_But here she was, as free as any woman could wish to be. And the more she thought of that, the more eager she became to take advantage of her newfound independence and see the world she had always longed to see._

_She climbed down from the ship, watching as the porter had her chests and luggage loaded onto a rickshaw, which she eventually boarded as well. After giving the location of the hotel to the rickshaw driver, they set off into Shanghai at a comfortable but brisk pace._

_They hadn't gotten far when a large, burly man stepped in the way of the rickshaw, causing the driver to swerve out of the way. Fortunately the rickshaw didn't topple over, and so she and the rickshaw driver weren't injured. She could, however, hear the rickshaw driver arguing with someone in rapidly spoken Chinese._

_Catherine had tried to learn the language while on the boat to Shanghai, but she had not gotten past the basic phrases yet and so couldn't really understand what was being said. She clambered out of the rickshaw, and stood on the street. "Excuse me..."_

_The rickshaw driver glanced at her then. Distracted, he did not see the other man lift his fist._

_Catherine gasped loudly as the rickshaw driver slumped to the ground from the force of the other man's right hook. She took several steps backwards. What in the world was going on!?_

_The man - a tall, muscular fellow who had dirty blonde hair and icy blue eyes - stalked towards her, a smile on his face that told her he had other things on his mind than just stealing her valuables._

_She stepped back and away from the man, looking around frantically for someone who could help her. But now the street was curiously deserted, though a while ago it had been bustling with people. Where had they all gone?_

_She whirled her gaze back towards the stranger, and her mind raced to figure something out. "I-if it is money you want, you can have it. It's in my luggage in the rickshaw," she stammered, trying to purchase her freedom if she had to. She knew that she had no way of defending herself against this man should he try to take something she was not so willing to give up._

_"But if you are smart, you would not take the lady's valuables, or harm her, either."_

_Catherine looked up, and watched in amazement as a tall figure stepped out from an alley she had not noticed a while ago. He was obviously a Westerner, because of the pinkish hue of his skin, and because of the deep green eyes that were set below dark frowning brows. Recalcitrant curls of dark brown hair fell carelessly over his forehead, but not low enough as to obstruct his eyesight. He was dressed in the clothes the Chinese themselves wore, but the fabric was richer than most._

_The stranger walked steadily up to Catherine, until he was slightly in front of her, but still to the side so that he was not completely blocking her. He rested his hands casually on his hips as he looked at the man who had attempted to accost her. "If I were you, I would just walk away now, before the situation gets worse." He spoke in a Scottish accent, which Catherine found rather comforting in this situation._

_Catherine's attacker growled, and started swearing in what she suddenly recognized as German. She looked at her attacker, then at her defender, who was still standing there, calm and unperturbed by the spiel of the man standing across from him. She was thoroughly confused. Were there so many foreigners in China now?_

_"I don't care who you are, I will take the girl," the German snarled, his English barely understandable through the thickness of his accent._

_The Scotsman tilted his head in an angle that seemed to indicate interest - and a challenge. "Oh? Let's see you try, then."_

_The German's face contorted in his rage, and with a loud roar, he rushed towards the Scotsman, intent, as far as Catherine could tell, on tackling him to the ground. But the Scotsman did not move an inch - he merely stood there, his arms no longer position on his hips, but hanging against his sides._

_Catherine stared at him in disbelief. Isn't he going to do anything to defend himself, she wondered. She frowned. The dunce must have a death wish!_

_And then it happened. Just before the German's fist came in contact with the Scotsman's jaw, the latter lifted his hand and gripped the German's wrist. The Scotsman stepped away to the side, throwing his opponent off-balance and sending him careening, headfirst, into the wall behind Catherine. _

_She winced at the sickening crack that sounded back to her as bone smashed against stone. The German slumped limply to the ground. Catherine waited for him to get up, but he didn't. Taking small, hesitant steps, she approached, and nudged his leg with the tip of her shoe. He still did not move._

_"I don't think he will be getting up anytime soon, lass."_

_Catherine whirled around, and was greeted by green eyes that brimmed with amusement. Collecting her wits, she managed a small smile, and a curtsy to match. "I thank you for your service, good sir," she murmured, her old habits resurfacing unintentionally._

_The Scotsman laughed - a pleasant sound that seemed to rumble from his stomach all the way through his chest before it bubbled out of his mouth. "Well, well, well! A right and proper lady, are you? And English as well! What brings the fair lady out of London and into these parts, hm?"_

_Catherine smiled shyly. "I am here on business," she said. "I want to go out and look for ruins and antiquities. Do you know where I might find them?"_

_The Scotsman laughed. "Do I know where they are? Lass, you've come to the right person." He bowed to her. "Andrew Delaney, at the fine lady's service."_

_Catherine smiled, her fear almost forgotten in her elation. She could hardly believe her luck! She moved closer to him, her voice dropping down to an almost conspiratorial whisper. "I would be willing to hire you as my guide. I would pay you well."_

_"Ah, my fine lass, you don't need to pay me," Andrew said as he straightened, his eyes twinkling rakishly. "Though I do ask for one thing before we settle down and discuss business."_

_"And what would that be?"_

_His lips twitched in a smirk. "Just a kiss from the fair lady."_

_Catherine stared at him, her mind suddenly blanking out. Soon, however, her temper caught up with her, and in moments, she had lifted her hand, and slapped him soundly across the face._

Catherine shrugged, and leaned back into her chair. "And that's how we met."

Evie burst out laughing. "Good heavens, it sounds almost like the way Rick and I met!" Evie exclaimed between bursts of laughter. "I cannot believe how similar they are!"

Catherine grinned. "I know. At that time, and for quite a while after, I considered him rude and insolent, someone I had to put up with because he was the only one I could trust to take me to wherever the ruins were. But he...grew on me, I suppose is the term for it. And we have been companions ever since then."

"Well, that's how men are," Evie said with a shrug and a smile. She lifted her head just as Rick and Andrew walked through the archway, the two men pushing in large wooden crates that had wheels on the bottom. Stacked on top of the largest crates were other smaller ones.

Jonathan walked up to them, peering at the crates intently. "Are the contents worth anything?"

"Don't even _start_, Jonathan," Rick muttered as he stopped pushing his crates, which slid to a halt just before they touched the fringe of the elaborate Persian carpet.

Alex blinked at the crates. "They're really big."

Catherine smiled as she stood up, walking over to the largest crate. "They have to be." She waited for Rick and Andrew to set aside the smaller crates, and then she knelt down between the two big ones, unlocking them with a key that she wore around her neck. After doing so, she pushed back the lid, and smiled proudly as she looked at Evie and Rick. "This is just one of the many wedding gifts I brought for you. I know they are a little late, but I do hope you will forgive me. After all, you won't find their like anywhere else."

* * *

TO THE READERS WHO HAVE BEEN FOLLOWING THIS:

I sincerely hope that you will forgive me for the delay with regards to updates. I have not had inspiration for this story in quite some time, and it was only recently that I was able to write it again. Be rest assured, I have not forgotten this particular tale - it is simply that, in comparison to the other stories that I am managing at the moment, this one takes the longest to get written.

Again, I humbly beg for your forgiveness.


	6. Chapter Five: Cursed Gifts?

**Chapter Five: "Cursed" Gifts?**

Ardeth heard Evie utter a surprised, delighted gasp when Catherine removed the cover of the crate and cleared some of the thick layer of straw that had been used as padding for the object within. "Oh Cathy, it's _lovely_!"

Alex wrinkled his nose, and muttered, "It's just a statue."

Indeed, that was exactly what was inside the crate. It was a stone statue slightly more than four feet in height, and made of dark, polished granite. It depicted a creature that was so stylized in its carving that Ardeth could not identify it.

"This is a statue of a _xilin_, or Chinese unicorn," Catherine explained as she carefully picked out a small speck of straw that had gotten into one of the crannies in the statue. "This is one of two that were found in front of a tomb that could have, at one point, been the burial ground of an Emperor, though Andrew and I are not sure yet as to which Emperor that is."

Rick knelt down on the carpet beside Catherine, and placed a hand on the stone. "What was it for?"

"We don't know," Catherine replied with a shrug. "I believe it was supposed to guard the entrance of the tomb, prevent grave robbers from coming in and stealing the treasure inside."

Ardeth flicked his gaze up to Catherine. "And did you take that treasure?"

Catherine looked up at him, and met his gaze fully, her eyes showing that she was not lying. "No. Grave robbers had already been in there ahead of us. The only things of value that Andrew and I found were these statues, and since they seem to have served their purpose, we decided to take them." She smiled slightly at him. "I have a lot more respect for the dead than that, Ardeth."

Ardeth bowed his head in shame, realizing that he might have accused her of being another grave robber. "Forgive me, I did not intend to accuse you."

She did not reply, merely gave him a nod, and then she closed the lid of the crate holding the statue, and stood up, turning her attention to the other, smaller crates.

Ardeth did not - could not - understand her. It baffled him that she was always so calm and cool, poised and collected. There was something about her exterior that seemed hard and flinty, as if she had wrapped herself in stone, yet on the inside he sensed that she was much softer than she appeared to be.

She was by no means beautiful, but she intrigued him more than any woman he had ever met.

Realizing where his thoughts were going, he focused instead on the seemingly endless wonders that Catherine and Andrew pulled out of the crates. First there was a graceful bronze statuette depicting a horse in mid-gallop - Ardeth found the interpretation well executed and very beautiful indeed. Another crate was filled with art pieces and jewelry shaped from jade, which, as Catherine had said, was a valuable gemstone in China. A third crate had scrolls filled with paintings and rolls of painted silk, also covered in paintings, depicting life in the Imperial Court.

Another crate yielded more foreign pieces - treasures that Catherine and Andrew had collected from their five-year journey through the jungles of Mexico. Most of the treasures consisted of clay pottery which, while nowhere near as delicate as the porcelain pieces from China, were nonetheless very intriguing, if only for the designs on the outside; jade and greenstone jewelry; weapons; gold; and silver.

And then Catherine suddenly paused, her hands stilling over a particular box. "How did this get here?"

Andrew looked over his shoulder from where he was replacing the lid on one of the crates, and Ardeth noticed him pale visibly. "I thought we had gotten rid of that!"

Alex stood beside Catherine, and he did not seem quite impressed by what was inside the box. "It's only a mask. Why are you so worried about a mask?"

Rick's eyes narrowed visibly. "What mask?" He walked up to where Catherine and his son were, and picked up the box that was sitting in Catherine's lap. He looked at the contents briefly, and Ardeth noticed Rick's shoulders tense in worry.

Ardeth felt tension beginning to build. "What is wrong, my friend?"

"Oh nothing, just what seems to be another cursed artifact," Rick threw back sarcastically as he handed the box to Ardeth so that he and Evie could have a look.

It was, as Alex had said, a mask. It looked as if it had been cut from one large piece of jade. The mask was human-like, though the eyes were slanted like those of a cat's, and the lips parted in a grimace that revealed feline teeth. There were two small holes drilled into the sides of the mask, presumably for the ties that would hold the mask in place. The eyes had two holes punched out of the stone, just large enough for the irises of a person to stand out against the green of the jade.

Curious, he touched the tip of the mask's nose with his finger, and felt an icy cold rush up his arm and through his spine. He swiftly drew back, not liking the feel of the stone.

Evie took the box from him, stared at the mask, and then looked up at Catherine. "Cathy?"

* * *

Evie's words barely registered in Catherine's mind; she was too busy staring at the box in her hand.

She was _sure_ she had left that box behind. She was _sure_ she had left _specific_ instructions that she would not be taking the box with her.

But what was it doing here?

Maybe it had followed her? She shook the thought out of her head. No, that was impossible. Inanimate objects simply did not get up and follow people around.

Then again, she had been witness to stranger things before, so why was she denying the possibility?

"Cathy, are you alright?"

Catherine snapped to attention, and gazed at Evie, who was looking at her with an inquiring yet worried gaze. She smiled, and laughed uneasily as she took the box from Evie's hands. "Yes, I'm fine..."

"And what is wrong with that mask?" Evie pursued, seemingly intent on getting to the bottom of this mystery - something that was so typical of her. "Why did Rick say that it was cursed?"

"Because I know a cursed artifact when I see one, and _that_ is one," Rick retorted. He looked up at Andrew and Catherine. "So you would be the ones who found the tomb of the Jade Priest [1]."

Catherine winced at Rick's words. She gave him a small, weak smile. "I am glad to see that you know your artifacts, Mr. O' Connell."

"Now wait just a moment here," Jonathan interrupted then, and Catherine was glad that he had broken the tension. "What is all this talk about a Jade Priest?"

Catherine sighed, and bowed her head. She really did not want to talk about it at the moment, not when Rick seemed to be so angry with her. And if he did indeed know about the Jade Priest, then he would most certainly know about the story attached to it.

A warm hand placed itself on her shoulder, and she looked up to see Andrew gazing at her in a sympathetic, comforting manner. "I'll tell them the story."

Catherine smiled up gratefully at him, and nodded as she sat down. She listened as Andrew told them the story of how they had found the tomb of the Jade Priest, without even knowing what it had been.

She closed her eyes, remembering how the day had been. They had been slicing through the jungle for three days, ever since they had found the holy well on the day she had written her last letter to Evie. He spoke of how they had followed the trail, chopping and slicing their way through the growth, until they found the small temple. He related to them how they had dodged the booby traps to reach the burial chamber deep within. He told them, too, how they had taken out the artifacts carefully, one by one.

He told them how one of the diggers, intent on stealing the mask, put it on, and was never seen again.

"So what does this mask do?" Catherine looked up as Alex picked up the mask in both his hands, before flipping it over to gaze intently at the inside surface.

Catherine decided that she would be the one to explain. "The legend goes that only those of the pure of heart, or born of the gods, can ever put that mask on. It allows you see between the realms, to see the spirits of the dead as if they were alive."

"So it allows you to see ghosts?"

"More than that: it lets you see people's souls." She stood up, and gently took the mask from the boy's hands, placing it back into the box and shutting the lid. "But the vision comes at a great price, for in repayment, the mask itself demands that you give it a piece of your soul. The longer you use it, the more of your soul is taken away."

Ardeth spoke up then. "And what happens if those who are not of the pure of heart, or born of the gods, put on the mask?"

It was Rick who answered. "They disappear. Legend has it that they're taken to a place between life and death and are stuck there forever."

Catherine nodded. "It is much worse than dying, because with death, at least you are aware of your fate. For the poor souls who have tried to peer between the realms for foul purposes, they may not even know that they are already gone from this world. Death is kinder, indeed, in comparison to that."

"But the curse only extends as far as that," Andrew added. "As long as nobody puts on the mask, then nobody will be harmed. It is as simple as that."

Rick frowned. "Still, I don't want that thing anywhere in my house. I've heard enough stories about that mask, and about the Jade Priest." He glanced at the crates. "What else from his tomb do you have in there?"

Evie glared at her husband. "You do not have to be so rude, Richard O'Connell," she told him. "Cathy is only trying to be nice."

"It's all right," Catherine said, waving a hand and smiling. "I understand his apprehension with regards to the mask, and to anything that comes from the Jade Priest's tomb. If you knew the stories as well as I, Andrew, and Rick do, you would feel the same way about the mask."

"Well then why don't you tell me about them?"

Catherine shook her head, taking the box with the mask, and closing it. "Someday, maybe, but not now." She placed the box back inside the crate from which it had emerged. "For now, I will keep it with me, until I can have it shipped back home."

Jonathan wrinkled his nose. "And have it collect dust on some shelf? If you don't want it, why don't you just sell it? It will be more helpful to you that way."

"And have someone else with less that scrupulous reasons get a hold of it?" Catherine gave Jonathan a small, wry smile. "I do not think that would be a wise thing, Jon."

"But if what you tell me is true, then the mask will only harm those who want to use it for evil purposes! If that were the case, then the mask can take care of itself perfectly well! What's the harm in selling it?"

"Because we are not sure of the true nature of this mask," Catherine explained. "With things like this, it is never always a sure thing, that it will take the soul only of those who are evil. The world is never really as simple as that."

No, it's _never_ as simple as that, she thought, biting her lip. She thought of England, of Erica, of her father...

She shook her head. Now was _not_ the time for such memories.

"Well as long as she keeps that thing with her and away from Alex, I guess they can stay here."

Catherine looked up, and noted that Rick had a grudging but almost resigned look on his face, while Evie had a smile that seemed to say she had just won a very important argument.

Evie smiled at her. "Cathy, would it be all right with you if I kept that mask somewhere safe? That way you won't have to worry about certain people getting their hands on it when they should not." Here, she glanced pointedly at her brother and her son.

Alex blinked a moment, and then shot his mother an indignant look. "Mum! I learned my lesson with the Scorpion King's bracelet! I'm _not_ picking up another artifact like that again!"

At more or less the same time that Alex spoke up, Jonathan did the same: "Now Evie, you couldn't _possibly_ be thinking that I, your darling brother and one of Cathy's dearest friends, would _dare_ to steal such an important artifact!"

Catherine could not help but laugh. She was quite certain about Alex' sincerity, and she felt that Evie knew that too, but as for Jonathan...well, she could never be quite certain about how sincere he was at times. Even Evie would agree to that.

"Very well then," she said with finality, handing the box to Evie. "You can put it wherever you see it."

Evie nodded. "Don't worry a thing about it, Cathy. I'll make sure it's safe."

* * *

[1]= I wish to state here that there is no such thing as the Legend of the Jade Priest. That was just something I made up myself, and will get explained further at some other time, perhaps. However, the mask was based on a real thing: a priest was indeed found in one of the Mayan temple-pyramids in Mexico with a jade mask. While that mask had completely human features, I added catlike features as based on an Olmec greenstone mask that had the features of a jaguar combined with the more human features. And finally, the story of a jade mask that allows the wearer to see into the spaces between life and death is based on a similar concept found in Anne Rice's book _Merrick._


	7. Chapter Six: Early Morning Speculations

**Chapter Six: Early Morning Speculations**

The entire O'Connell household was quiet in the early morning. The sun had not risen yet, and the sky was still covered in a blue velvet blanket sprinkled with diamonds. A sickle-shaped moon hung low on the horizon, preparing to descend beyond the rim of the world to give the sun its time in the heavens.

There was peace here, a tranquility that was so different from what it was like in China or in the jungles. In Mexico, there was always the sound of frogs and nocturnal insects, and the moment dawn broke across the sky, the songs of birds and the roars of the big cats that prowled beneath the thick emerald eaves greeted it. In China, it was almost the same, but there were no big cats, for their roars were replaced by the steady chanting of monks in prayer.

Andrew sighed as he closed his eyes, suddenly missing the cool mountain air of the Buddhist temple at the top of Mount Song, in Anyang province, in China. While he could not be a monk - he knew that the life of an ascetic would be the death of him - he did stay there long enough to learn the fighting style that, up till then, the monks had taught to no outsiders [1].

His senses, made sharper by the stillness that blanketed the world around him at that moment, picked up movement from behind him. He focused on it intently, and recognized the cadence and beat of the footsteps that were steadily approaching him.

He did not need to look over his shoulder to know who had just arrived. "Up early, Cathy?"

Although she did not respond, he knew that his guess was correct, because a moment later she was sitting beside him on the porch. She breathed a sigh, and then spoke: "I suppose. I find it a little too quiet here. I miss the sound of the jungle."

He slid a glance at her through the corner of his eye, his lips quirking upwards slightly. "You do not mean to tell me, lass, that you miss all that ruckus?"

She returned his gaze with one of her own. "I found the frogs very comforting, mind you. They were a constant reminder that I was not in England."

Andrew nodded, knowing that England was rather sensitive topics when it came to Catherine. He had only met Baron Ashlar once, and it had not been a very pleasant meeting.

He grimaced, pushing that memory to the back of his mind. He could understand - at least partly - why Catherine wanted to get away from him. Baron William Ashlar did not seem like a very caring person.

Erica Ashlar, on the other hand, was a different story altogether. While he had never met the girl who was Catherine's younger sister, he had seen a picture of her, since Catherine kept a small portrait of her sister in an oval gold locket. While Catherine rarely ever wore the locket, she always had it on her person, tucked away in one of the pouches on her belt or some other compartment on her clothing. It was obvious that Catherine loved and adored her little sister, though she might have had different feelings for her father.

He turned his head to watch as Catherine stood up, stretching her arms over her head as she did so. She was dressed in a pair of loose cotton pantaloons and a loose silk over shirt; Catherine was not one to dress in nightgowns, unless absolutely necessary. And besides, a dress would only be a hindrance to the training that she received from Andrew every morning from the moment she had asked to be taught.

Andrew got to his feet as well, stretching as he did so, and looked for a suitable area for them to practice. There was a clear space to the side, beneath the spreading branches of an acacia tree. That would be suitable for their purposes.

He nodded at Catherine, and the two of them headed towards the space. He shook his hands, loosening the joints of his fingers. "Are you ready, Cathy?"

"As ready as I ever will be, I suppose." The young woman paused, looking around, and a puzzled expression came over her face. "Where are the swords? I thought I had unpacked them last night."

Andrew smiled at her as he turned around to face her. "Today we will train without swords or weapons. I think it's high time that I taught you how to fight without them."

She stared at him, stunned beyond belief, though in a few moments, a smile lit up her face, and her eyes gleamed with eagerness. "A weapon is but an extension of the body," she recited, "for the body is the ultimate weapon."

"Very good lass," Andrew said with an approving nod and smile. "I will make a warrior out of you yet." He quickly turned serious, planting his feet firmly apart, and allowing his arms to settle, relaxed, at his sides. "Now then, I think it would be best to teach your first what _not_ to do than _what_ to do in unarmed combat..."

* * *

Rick got up earlier than usual, having been unable to sleep very well the previous night. With a rather troubled mind, he kissed his sleeping wife on the cheek, before her got up from bed, changed into some decent clothes, and wandered down the hallway, down the stairs, past the dining room and into the kitchen. He doubted if Francine would be awake, but he knew his own way around the kitchen - as long as he avoided using the stove and the oven. He picked up an apple from the plate of fruit nearby, and poured himself a glass of water before he headed out to the porch, biting into the apple along the way.

All the while, his thoughts were troubled by the mask that Catherine and Andrew had brought with them, and that Evie had stored away in the small vault that was hidden behind one of the paintings in their bedroom. He didn't really like the idea of having that mask in his house, much less in the bedroom he shared with his wife, but it was the only way to keep it completely safe.

He had liked Catherine and Andrew well enough. He had to give them that much credit, at least. They were his kind of folk: people who knew how to rough it up and never complain about it. Sure, Catherine was a baroness, and who knew, maybe Andrew was one of those Highland Lords traveling around incognito to escape duty or an arranged marriage - or both. But they were like him, too: adventurers who enjoyed the thrill of the chase, and the rush of new discoveries.

What he _didn't_ like was the fact that they had brought a cursed artifact into his house. And, as he knew, his family had a _very_ bad track record when it came to cursed objects.

First, the Book of the Dead, then the Scorpion King's bracelet, and now the Mask of the Jade Priest, he thought morosely. Yes indeed, his family had a _wonderful_ record. He hoped for once - just once - that they would find the Golden Sun Disc of the Inca, for a change, or hell, maybe even the Holy Grail. He wouldn't mind stumbling across those - they weren't cursed.

He sighed, and shook his head. At the very least whatever could happen, would _not_ happen in Egypt. The mask was found in Mexico, and they were far, _far_ away from Mexico at the moment.

After all, the Atlantic was a greater distance to cross than the Mediterranean and the English Channel. Anything - mummified or otherwise - that wanted to come after them would have just drowned in the middle of the Atlantic.

He walked out onto the porch, and inhaled the still-cool air. He could deal with that problem when it came up. As long as the mask stayed in the vault, there was nothing to worry about.

"YAAAH!"

Rick looked up upon hearing that cry, just in time to see Catherine charging right at Andrew. A split-second later, Catherine went up in the air, and landed on her back with a rather painful-sounding thud.

Snapped out of his stupor by the sound, Rick covered the distance between him and the acacia tree where the two had obviously been fighting. "What the hell was that?" he demanded as he glared at Andrew. He knew he was rough around the edges and all, but even _he_ knew better than to hurl a woman around like a rag doll, no matter _how_ angry she might have been!

To his surprise, Catherine laughed, and got up, looking none the worse for wear as she patted off the dust that had clung to her clothes after her tumble. "Mr. O'Connell, please, I am quite fine. There is nothing to worry about."

Rick rolled his eyes as he helped Catherine get the dust off her clothes, patting off a particularly large patch of the substance that had clung to the back of her white shirt. "You mean the fact that Andrew just threw you over his shoulder is nothing I should be worried about? And like I said last night, call me Rick."

Catherine nodded in response, briefly thanking him for helping her get the dirt off her clothes, and then answered: "Yes, that was nothing to be worried about. Andrew was just teaching me some of the techniques in unarmed combat that he learned in China."

"Really?" Rick glanced at Andrew, who smiled, and bowed his head in a rather modest manner. "What exactly was she talking about?"

"What Cathy was referring to was the training I had in the Buddhist temple at the top of Mount Song, in China's Anyang province. I stayed there for a while, learning all that I could, before I left and went to Shanghai, where I met Cathy." The Scotsman smiled at the young woman. "She asked me to teach her how to fight in the style that the monks taught me, and I did. I've taught her enough of armed combat, so now I am teaching her how to fight without weapons."

Rick nodded, absorbing the information and putting it in the back of his mind. If that were the case, then Catherine was not as helpless as he had assumed. Like Evie, she could fight well enough to take care of herself - though he really didn't understand why she would want to learn unarmed combat.

"Say, uh... Could you tell me just _what_ exactly that style of fighting is?" Rick asked. He grinned at the two, and nodded towards the house. "We could all have some breakfast while you told me about it."

Catherine glanced at Andrew, who raised his eyebrow slightly in reply. She laughed, and said, "I suppose that would be alright. I _am_ rather hungry, truth be told."

Andrew rolled his eyes, though he fell in step with Catherine and Rick. "All those times that we were training in the jungle and in China, you would never complain about being hungry until _after_ an hour or more of training. But we arrive here and suddenly your discipline and self-control are in tatters." He shook his head in a mock-condescending manner. "I am beginning to think we should have stayed in Mexico."

Catherine stuck her tongue out at the Scotsman in response. "Oh, do be quiet Andrew." Her next words were directed at Rick: "That man thinks that just because he has spent a lot of time with the monks in their temple, he can call me undisciplined and lacking in self-control."

Rick laughed as he listened to his two companions argue back in forth. Yep, he thought, he was right the first time: he liked them, but he didn't like whatever it was they brought into his house. He made a mental note never to ask presents from them anymore, whatever the occasion it might be, without doing thorough research on all the possible legends and stories that had been told in the country they had last been in.

* * *

"And that was the last time I _ever_ let Cathy use a whip chain [2] in her training," Andrew said, concluding a rather hilarious story that concerned Catherine, a length of iron chain, and several unwary workers who had been standing too close for comfort while he had been teaching her how to manipulate the chain as a weapon.

Catherine laughed with the men, even though she was still marginally embarrassed about how the whole situation went. Still, she had realized that her strength lay in the use of other weapons, and she had, instead, focused on the use of the Chinese straight sword, or _jian_, which she could wield singly or two at a time.

Rick winced teasingly. "Remind me never to test her temper, then," he said to Andrew, sparing a moment to glance at Catherine and wink at her, telling her that it was all just a joke.

"Ah, but now I can become as dangerous as that even without weapons," Catherine replied, grinning at Andrew. "After all, weapons are but an extension of the body..."

"For the body is the ultimate weapon," Andrew finished, smiling at her.

Rick blinked at them both. "Wait a minute: what did you mean? How can the body be the 'ultimate weapon'?"

Catherine leaned forward slightly, smiling at Rick as she explained: "You see, in the fighting style that Andrew was taught, and that he's now teaching to me, weapons are just an extension of the body - a tool, you might say. A sword is a weapon, but unless someone actually wields it, it is nothing. In line with that thought, the body can be trained to be a weapon all on its own, effective both against armed and unarmed opponents."

"Well that's always a good thing to know," Rick commented, pausing to sip from the cup of coffee that the housemaid Francine had provided for him. He put the cup down, and then looked at Catherine with a curious expression on his face. "How could you stand getting thrown over his shoulder like that and stand up without even wincing once?"

"Because Andrew taught me how to take a fall," Catherine replied. "There are ways of landing, Rick, so that you don't hurt yourself. You have to favor particular parts of your body over others. Like, say, you would favor your neck more than you would favor your arm, because breaking your arm is better than breaking your neck. Landing is the same thing: there are ways of falling that protect the more vulnerable parts of the body, while allowing less vulnerable ones to take the force of the fall."

"And you learned this - all of this - from monks at the top of a mountain?"

"China is a harsh country, Rick," Andrew said, his voice serious and solemn. "Mysterious, yes, and beautiful, without a doubt. But it is also dangerous. The people have known things and truths that we in the West are only beginning to discover and learn for ourselves."

"And so it has been with Egypt."

Catherine looked up, and smiled as Evie entered, outfitted comfortably and casually. She smiled as her best friend approached. "Good morning, Evie."

"Same to you Cathy, Andrew," Evie replied, crossing over to kiss her husband on the cheek, a kiss which Rick returned with one of his own.

Catherine watched the two interact, feeling a small, dull pang of jealousy in her stomach. She believed that Evie was extremely fortunate to have a husband like Richard O'Connell. He was passionate, strong, brave, and completely dedicated to her. Oh, Rick might have been a little headstrong at times - that, Catherine knew, came with the passion he had - but all people were flawed. She understood that no man could be the perfect one for her; he could only be the _right_ one for her, but that would be more than enough.

Briefly, the memory of dark, smoldering eyes and a voice like warm, spiced wine flashed through her, but before she could grasp it completely, it was gone.

"Cathy?"

She jerked her head up, and noticed that Evie was looking at her. "Yes?"

Evie's eyes narrowed slightly, and she reached out, pressing a hand to Catherine's forehead. "Are you alright? You look flushed?"

"I am?" Catherine pressed the backs of her palms to her cheeks, and noted that, indeed, the skin was rather warm. She laughed, and shook her head. "I'm quite fine, Evie, nothing to worry about. I suppose that I will need some time to get used to this heat."

Though she still looked a little unsure, Evie drew back, and nodded slightly. "Well, I do hope that you can adjust by next week."

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "Next week? Why is that?"

"Because I want the two of you to come with us when we go to Dendera," Evie replied, and her eyes glowed with excitement. "Oh Cathy, I'm sure you will have so much fun! While you're here in Egypt you and Andrew might as well come with us when we go inspect the dig at Dendera. After all, I believe we could use all the help we can get."

Rick mock-scowled at his wife. "Evie, do you think that's the right thing to do? No offense to you, Cathy, Andrew, but they have the same track record with artifacts as you do."

"Whatever do you mean by that, Richard O'Connell?"

"Let's look at recent history here, alright? It was you who found the Book of the Dead, and it was also you who found the bracelet of the Scorpion King. While there's the saying that 'third time's the charm,' it's only the first time that they've found a cursed artifact. Who's to say that on this trip around, they won't find something cursed again?"

"They _won't_," Evie said emphatically, and to emphasize her point she slapped her husband on the arm. "There is _nothing_ cursed at Dendera! If there were anything there at all, then I'm sure Ardeth would have told us to stay clear of that place to begin with. And since Ardeth hasn't told us anything, then I will assume that it is safe to go digging in Dendera."

"By the way," Catherine cut in then, and she knew her voice was unusually quiet, unusually shy, but she didn't care. "I was just curious... Just _what_ is Ardeth?"

Everyone at the table was silent. For a moment, no one spoke, and no one moved, until Rick leaned back, a smile on his face that seemed to say he knew something she didn't. "Why do you want to know about Ardeth?"

"Well...he was...is..." Catherine could not help but stammer through her words. Why in God's name _had_ she wanted to know about Ardeth in the first place? "He just seemed like...a rather interesting character, that's all." She capped the statement with a weak smile.

Andrew cocked his eyebrow at her questioningly, but he did not say anything. As for Rick, that knowing smile had not disappeared from his face, even as he leaned back to answer her question. "Ardeth's a Medjai - you know, deadly desert warrior who could chop your head off if you disagreed with him and his folk?"

Evie glared at her husband. "Ardeth's not like that, Rick. He's a little...rough, I suppose, but he's a really nice person."

Rick laughed. "I know, I know. But you got to admit; he can be pretty scary too at times. Anyway, yeah, Ardeth's nice in his own way. He's just..." He shrugged. "Well, he takes some getting used-to. He's not one to talk a lot."

"Yes, I suppose that part was very easy to figure out," Catherine said with a soft laugh. "Still, he is quite a mystery. I dare say it would take a lifetime to understand him."

"I say; where has everyone gone to?"

Evie sighed when Jonathan's voice echoed down to them from the bedrooms on the second floor. "Well then, I suppose that we ought to make our appearance now - just to make sure that Jon does not do anything rash."

* * *

"She likes him."

Evie looked at her husband's reflection through her mirror. She narrowed her eyes at him slightly. "What do you mean, 'she likes him'?"

Rick rolled his eyes - a perfect imitation of her habit. "Cathy likes Ardeth, Evie. Don't tell me you didn't see it this morning."

Evie turned around in her seat so she could look at her husband, who was sitting on top of a wooden chest that stood at the foot of their bed. She found it rather difficult to believe the words that had come out of her husband's mouth. "No, I don't think I did. Would you kindly explain to me how you happened upon _that_ conclusion?"

"The way she stuttered when she was asking about what Ardeth was, and the way her voice went all soft when talking about him..." Rick looked at his wife, and groaned in exasperation as he threw his hands up in the air. "Oh come _on_ Evie! I thought that you women were better at seeing these things!"

Evie bristled at that. Was he trying to imply that she did not know her _own_ best friend? The nerve of him! "I will have you know, Richard O'Connell, that the reason why I _refuse_ to comprehend what you have just told me is because I cannot imagine Cathy being attracted to Ardeth, or vice-versa!"

"I wasn't saying that _Ardeth_ was attracted to Cathy, I was just saying that Cathy was attracted to Ardeth."

"Well I cannot imagine that. And knowing Cathy, she would not even consider it."

"Give me one good reason why she _shouldn't_," Rick challenged.

"First of all-" Evie halted then, her mind going blank in an instant. _Why_ indeed would Catherine not be attracted to Ardeth? After all, she was certain Catherine wasn't blind - though she could not, for the life of her, understand why Catherine and Andrew were not attracted to each other at all. And Ardeth was not in the least bit ugly - not with his rather exotic, dashing, "Prince of the Desert" looks.

Rick smirked. "See? There's _no_ reason why Cathy wouldn't be attracted to Ardeth."

Evie considered it, and she gasped. Good God, why hadn't she noticed it before? She looked up at her husband with amazement. "Good heavens Rick... You might actually be right on this one!"

"Took you a while to figure it out, hmm?" He walked over to her, and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "I mean, hey... Maybe it's just me being happily married and all, but I'd love to see my old buddy settled down, you know what I mean?"

Evie giggled as she looked up at her husband. "And you would match make him with my best friend? Do you realize just how different those two are?"

"I know, but who cares?" Rick gave that careless shrug that Evie found both adorable and annoying. "They'll do each other good."

"Perhaps, but..." Evie sighed. "I don't know Rick. Cathy doesn't seem to be looking for romance at the moment. And besides, for all that she claims she does not want to go back to England, I know that she will want to, one day. Maybe, when she goes back, she will find someone else, and she will settle down and get married." She held her husband's hand in hers, patting it reassuringly. "I know you want to see Ardeth happy for a change. I see it too: how the loneliness eats up at him inside, though he doesn't show it to us. But I don't think it would be wise to force them on each other. Let's just give them time to find out how they feel for each other."

Rick shrugged. "Guess you're right." He grinned. "You think Dendera will give them time to get to know each other?"

Evie rolled her eyes. Her husband just did not know when to give up. "I hope so, Rick. For Cathy's sake, and for Ardeth's too, I do hope so."

* * *

[1]= One of the oldest Shaolin temples in China is, indeed, located at the top of Mount Song in Anyang, China. I am not quite certain on the policy regarding foreigners learning the arts of kung fu during the time period that _The Mummy_, _The Mummy Returns,_ and hence, this story, takes place, so I hope that you, dear readers, will allow me some creative liberty on my speculation here.

[2]= The whip chain is but one of the many weapons that are employed in kung fu.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:

**Lilylynn** – Thank you for thinking highly of my story, and for thinking me a talented writer. I hope that you continue to enjoy the story as much as you have these past few chapters.

**Belphegor **– Thank you for your very gracious comment. Yes, Andrew is quite amusing, is he not? I based him on Gerard Butler, that Scottish actor who starred opposite Angelina Jolie in _Tomb Raider: Cradle of Life,_ and in the movie adaptation of Michael Crichton's novel _Timeline._ If you wish to have an image of Andrew – or at least, how _I_ see him – then all you need do is look at Gerard Butler when he played André Marek in _Timeline. _

As for the cursed object…alas, I am sad to disappoint you, but it is not the "main cursed object" of the story. That is to come later. But I have placed the mask in for a reason, which will be made clearer as the story progresses. No, the mask is not a veiled reference to the movie of the same name, but I must admit that _The Portrait of Dorian Grey_ did inspire the consequences of its use. I am yet to read _The Magic Skin, _but since you have mentioned it, I may as well look for a copy of my own.


	8. Chapter Seven: Dreams and Mirages

**Chapter Seven: Dreams and Mirages**

It was the deep, melodious tolling of the bells in the nearby convent's bell tower that roused her from her sleep. She opened her eyes slowly, her mind still groggy and not completely out of the dream realm just yet. Usually, she was not like this, but she couldn't help it. Her dreams had been keeping her awake for the better part of the past few days.

She shook her head, pushing the dreams to the back of her mind. She did not like them one bit. She kept seeing sand, plenty of sand, and then a temple with an architectural style that she recognized as Egyptian. She also remembered seeing a very old woman, weighed down by gold jewelry studded with carnelian, lapis lazuli, and amber, taking out a beautiful sword from the grasp of a statue. And then, the final scene she saw was of a golden coffin, the gleam of the precious metal still visible even through the thick layer of dust covering it. She saw - or rather, felt - a rumble, and then the entire scene went black.

That was when she woke up.

"Erica, are you awake?"

Erica Ashlar snapped to attention, and breathed a soft sigh of relief. I'm awake, she reminded herself, before clearing her throat, and answering the question. "Yes Jessica, I'm awake."

From beyond the curtains of her four-poster bed, she heard the voice of her good friend Jessica Avery reply: "Oh, alright then. I was a little worried when I didn't see you get out." Her voice turned lighter. "You might want to hurry up and get dressed. If you don't, we might be late for breakfast, and you know how Sister Brigit _hates_ latecomers."

Erica laughed softly, agreeing with Jessica. Sister Brigit was one of the crankier nuns who ran the boarding school she was staying at, and everyone knew that it was not wise to get on her bad side. Erica obeyed the rules, but there had been times when she had broken them in her own way, such as occasionally rallying her friends to explore the ruins of the old castle just up the hill, when they should have been elsewhere, such as in the study room or in their dormitories.

She had been caught once before, when she had sneaked out by herself one night, and Sister Brigit had threatened her with a letter to her older sister. But Erica knew she wouldn't get any reprisal from Catherine; after all, she knew all about Erica's little "expeditions," and by not scolding her for them, was actually encouraging her to continue them.

Erica smiled at that thought as she dressed herself for the morning. Sisters understood each other, and it was the same with adventurers.

She could hardly wait for the time when she could join her sister on one of her adventures. Catherine Ashlar lived an enviable life: going on expeditions around the world that could take years to complete, only to have pile upon pile of treasure and valuable artifacts shipped back home. She had braved the dangers posed by Nature and by humans, and always come out triumphant.

But for all of that, Erica never got to see her sister. Although there was always a steady stream of letters, postmarked from the most unusual corners of the world, they were but ghostly, insubstantial reminders of Catherine's existence. And while Erica did love and adore her older sister, she had to admit that it was rather unfair of Catherine not to come and visit her in person every now and then.

And yet, she supposed that it wasn't all that bad. At least Catherine actually _wrote_; her father didn't even bother to call, much less write.

Erica's memories of her father had always been vague and hazy. She didn't remember him as anything more than something peripheral, something at the edge of memory and sight; it was Catherine's warm and loving presence that filled most of her childhood memories. She knew that her mother had died giving birth to her - a memory that never failed to make Catherine misty-eyed - and Erica supposed that that was the reason why her father did not want to involve himself with taking care of her too much.

She was also aware that it was because of her that Catherine and their father had fought in the first place - a fight that led to Erica being packed off to boarding school and Catherine leaving, vowing never to set foot on English soil until their father's death; if she came home at any time before that, it would only be because some dire emergency had called her home.

She walked quickly down the steps of the dormitory, heading towards the hall where all the students ate their meals together. Breakfast was simple - bread, butter, and various kinds of marmalades, jams, comfits and preserves, accompanied by tea, water, or fruit juice to wash it all down. The nuns' home baked bread was always delicious, brought to their tables warm from the oven, and Erica never remembered having tasted anything as heavenly as the fruit preserves that the nuns made themselves.

She frowned slightly, a small sliver of memory coming back to haunt her. The nuns' food is good, but it's _nothing_ next to Cathy's fruit tarts, she thought.

Catherine was not at all that skilled at cooking. She could make very simple dishes, things that could be cooked at a moment's notice, but failed miserably whenever she had to make something a bit fancier. The only "fancy" food item that she was able to make were fruit tarts, but she was incredibly skilled at making them. Erica remembered lazy summer afternoons spent picnicking in the woods just outside the manor that they called home, talking and laughing over cold fruit juice and various berry tarts.

While her friends were talking and eating their breakfast, Sister Emily started walking around, distributing the mail that had arrived that day for the girls.

Erica watched the red-cheeked, cheerful nun with anticipation, her melancholy thoughts turning towards a more pleasant subject. Catherine's letters usually came once a month, and it was just about that time when Erica received the letters from her sister.

Just as she had hoped, Sister Emily stopped by their table, and distributed the letters for the other girls first. She turned to Erica last, smiled, and handed her an envelope. "As always, your sister's letter, right on time."

Erica grinned as she accepted the letter, pressing it against her lap. "Thank you Sister Emily."

"You're welcome, child." And with that, she moved on, heading to a neighboring table to deliver another batch of envelopes to the girls who were seated there.

All the other girls leaned in towards her the moment Sister Emily had left. Everyone who had ever become friends with Erica knew of Catherine Ashlar's adventures and treasure hunts, so they were just as eager to hear about her exploits as Erica was.

Erica opened the envelope, pulled out the papers from inside, and read:

Veracruz, Mexico 

_Dearest Erica,_

_As you can probably tell from the heading that I have placed, I am still in Mexico, at the port in Veracruz. After this, Andrew and I will be on our way to Egypt._

_Yes, Erica, we will be going off to Egypt. Do you remember my friend, Evelyn? I told you about her before, right? Well, at any rate, I am off to visit her in Egypt now. Perhaps, if I am lucky, I will be able to go on an expedition with her, and will be able to find something very interesting to send back to you._

_There will be a package arriving for you soon, perhaps a few days after you receive this letter. Inside you will find a jade hummingbird. I found it in one of the ruined temples in the jungles. It's rather fragile, so I hope that you will take good care of it when it reaches you. Wear it as a brooch, if you'd like - I think that it would look rather marvelous that way._

_Well, I have to end this here. Our ship bound for Egypt will set sail in an hour or so, and that is just enough time for me to post this. But I promise, when I am through with this, I am coming home, and picking you up so you can come with me before I set off on another expedition to Mexico. Yes, this time, you are coming with me. I realize that leaving you to waste away in a boarding school is not exactly the best idea, and I would rather have you with me than anywhere else. So wish me luck, and keep your fingers crossed, because soon, you'll be leaving England behind and coming with me._

_And now I truly must end it here. Take care of yourself, and I love you._

_Love and kisses,_

_Cathy_

_P.S. Oh, and if you ever wish to write back, send a letter to the address I have written on the back of this paper - it's the hotel where Andrew and I will be staying._

At that, her friends all began to giggle excitedly. Erica herself was stunned by the news, but she had to admit, it was a wonderful thing. She had always imagined what it would be like to be with Catherine on her expeditions, and soon she would be getting the chance to go with her.

"Oh, it sounds so exciting!" Tara McBride gushed, her face flushed at the prospect. "It must be so delightful to go with your sister, Erica! Imagine, wandering through the jungles, finding buried treasure..."

"But don't forget, it's dangerous out there, too," Angeline Illisson reminded them. "There are plenty of awful things in the jungle: spiders bigger than your hand, worms that crawl into your ear and eat your brains out while you sleep, snakes that could swallow you whole-"

Jessica shushed her. "Oh do be quiet, Angeline! The jungles might be dangerous but I am sure that Miss Catherine has faced those dangers, and more besides, and survived them all. And if she can do it, why not Erica here? They're sisters, after all, and we all know what sort of courage Erica has. She's as brave as her sister, and that is what truly counts."

Erica did not contribute further to the conversation. She folded the letter, and tucked it in a small pocket in the side of her skirt. She would write a letter after supper tonight, and then she would send it off tomorrow.

She considered telling her sister about the dreams she was having, but she shook her head, and thought better of it. After all, they were just dreams. They did not count for much, did they?

* * *

Catherine always knew that nights out in the desert could get quite cold. After all, she had traveled for a while through the Gobi Desert in Mongolia, and she knew the extremes of temperature that could occur in such barren wastelands.

But Egypt was different, and all thanks to the Nile. It was the Nile that made the area habitable, that allowed life to flourish here.

It was also because of the Nile that a great civilization had sprung up in the desert, a civilization whose wealth and power had attracted all kinds of people, from peaceful traders to powerful conquerors. For several thousand years the ancient Egyptians had lived, loved, and died in these deserts, creating wonders that few in the world could ever hope to imitate or exceed.

And in a few days' time, she would be exploring one of those wonders for herself.

She shivered in anticipation. The Temple of Hathor in Dendera was said to be one of the most beautiful in Egypt, suited to the goddess in whose name it had been erected. Certainly, it was not as large or as luxurious as some of the other, more famous ones, like Luxor or Karnak, but it had a beauty all its own - or at least, so Evie said, and Catherine trusted Evie's opinion. After all, she had been in Egypt for a greater majority of her life, and so she would know where the most interesting places were.

In the meantime, however, she enjoyed their little cruise down the Nile. She found pleasure in watching the small villages and hamlets slowly float by as the ship pushed further up the Nile and farther away from the Mediterranean, the lights of lamps and candles reflected in the onyx water of the river. Occasionally the stillness of the night would be broken by laughter, sometimes accompanied by an exotic melody played on flutes and tambourines that would curl around her sinuously, sensuously, and she would shut her eyes and surrender her mind to the music.

And then, it all rushed through her mind:

_Sand, endless stretches of it, broken only when an immense monument suddenly loomed in front of her._

_Dendera. It had to be Dendera. And it looked as it had in the olden days, when the worship of the old gods still existed: the grass had been tended to, and the flowerbeds looked fresh and pristine. Women in white robes - lower-ranked priestesses - scurried all around the place, seeing to their duties._

_A statue, a statue of the goddess Hathor herself. Kneeling in front of it was an old woman, dressed in the full ceremonial garb of the High Priestess of Hathor. She seemed to bow, but then she touched something at the base of the statue. There was a rumbling sound, and a slab of granite at the base of the statue moved to the side, revealing a dark entryway, and stairs leading down in the shadows._

_Hallways, many hallways, curving, twisting, turning into the bowels of the earth beneath the temple. She could smell death here, smell it in the unguents and the ointments that had been used in the embalming process when mummifying the priestesses who had served Hathor faithfully until they had died._

_More hallways, more chambers, and then another statue loomed in front of her. It was a woman with a lioness' head - Sekhmet, goddess of destruction. In her hands she was grasped a sword - a fine weapon, the blade made of cold, glimmering steel, and the hilt and handle wrought of gold and studded with rubies, carnelian and amber. She watched as hands, old, gnarled, aged hands, reached out to grasp the sword, and draw it out of the statue's stony clasp._

_And then there was a slow, cold fading, as if one were gradually passing into the shadows after a hot day in the sun. She felt herself slipping, yielding to the gentle, hypnotic tug upon her soul-_

"Cathy?"

She gasped loudly, her eyes opening wide to let in the pure, diamond light of the stars as air flooded her lungs. She whirled around, confused. "What-"

Two hands, solid and reassuring, grasped her shoulders firmly. "Cathy, it's me, Andrew."

Catherine fixed her gaze on the source of the sound. The blur swam back into focus, and she found herself staring into Andrew's eyes, which were currently a shade of troubled jade. "Andrew! I- What-"

"I was going to ask you the same thing." His eyes narrowed slightly in scrutiny. "Are you alright, lass? You look pale."

Catherine nodded, rather shakily. The night was suddenly far colder than she remembered it to be. "Yes, I..." She paused, swallowing. "I'll be alright."

Andrew gave her a small smirk. "Normally, I would believe that, but not right now. What happened?"

"I saw-" She stopped. What _had_ she seen? She could remember little snatches, could remember seeing a temple, and a statue, and a sword, but she could not put them together, could not link them together. She knew there was something that linked these three distinct ideas together, but she could not remember _what_ it was, exactly.

She shook her head, and smiled sheepishly up at Andrew. "I'm sorry Andrew. It seems that my memory refuses to cooperate with me at the moment."

Andrew held her gaze for a while, and then nodded. "Alright. I understand." He turned her around, directing her back to the interior of the ship. "Come on, let's get you inside and out of this cold."


	9. Chapter Eight: Steel in the Moonlight

**Chapter Eight: Steel in the Moonlight**

The sun shone warm and clear on Evie's face as she disembarked from the barge that had delivered her and her companions to the little town near the Nile. From here, they would hire camels, pack mules, and horses, and then they would travel through the desert, for a few days, perhaps, before reaching the temple complex of Dendera.

Such a marvelous day, she thought with a smile. She could not have asked for anything better: a pleasant journey up the Nile, and now, perfect weather with not a cloud in sight. What was more, she knew that Ardeth and a few of his fellow Medjai would meet up with them in the desert, before escorting them to Dendera. After all, the Medjai, as the true curators of Egypt's antiquities, had every right to be at the dig and oversee its progress.

She turned around, and watched as the others got off the barge. First came Rick and Alex, her husband carrying the duffel bag that contained his impressive array of weapons and armaments, and her son toting the bags and pouches that contained the archeologist's "tools of the trade:" brushes, chisels, and hammers of all shapes and sizes.

The second to emerge from the barge was Jonathan, who appeared to have taken the trip up the Nile in a more pleasant manner than was expected. Evie smirked, knowing it was because this time around, Jon had Alex and Catherine to keep him occupied, and thus well away from the gambling table.

The last two to emerge from the barge were Andrew and Catherine. Her best friend walked ahead of the Scotsman, and both of them were dressed in tan and khaki clothes that were rather similar to Rick's own clothing. The clothes were clean, but they were well worn, indicating that they had been through several washings already. Around her waist, Catherine wore a dark brown leather holster that contained a revolver just like Rick's; only the handgrip was decorated with a design that Evie could not see at her distance. The only other weapon that she carried on her person was a dagger in its sheath that she had tucked into her belt.

Andrew, on the other hand, was also carrying duffel bags, though these seemed to be bulging with bigger and heavier things than the bags that Catherine was carrying. Sticking out of the tops of one of the bags, Evie noticed two long, straight sheathes that could not mean anything other than a pair of straight swords.

That puzzled her. She had heard from Rick about how he had caught the two of them sparring in the yard one morning, but he hadn't mentioned anything about them using _swords_.

She waited until Catherine was standing next to her, and Evie was relieved to see that the other woman seemed well and happy. Just the night before last Andrew had escorted a rather dazed Catherine to her cabin, and when Evie had come over to check on her best friend, Catherine had been reluctant to see even her.

Evie waited until Catherine looked at her, before offering her a comforting smile. "Are you alright now, Cathy?"

Catherine blinked at her for a moment, as if not understanding what she had said, but after a while it seemed Evie's words had registered, and she smiled, and nodded. "Yes, I am quite fine now. Much better than the day before yesterday, at any rate."

"If you don't mind me sticking my nose into your business, what _was_ wrong with you?"

Catherine frowned almost immediately, and shook her head. "Well... It's rather difficult to explain, really. I cannot seem to find the words that will make it sound sensible." She laughed softly in a self-deprecating manner. "You might think me mad if I told you about it."

Evie caught Catherine's hand in hers, and gave it a gentle squeeze. She smiled comfortingly back at her best friend. "Try me."

Catherine heaved a sigh, closed her eyes, and started telling Evie about a dream that she had - or at least, she _thought_ it was a dream - and how she had felt about it. She told Evie of the things she had seen: Dendera at the height of its glory, and of the underground crypts and passageways that were buried deep beneath the temple.

Evie could not help but shiver. It reminded her of the time when Imhotep had been brought back to resurrect the Scorpion King, when she had remembered her past life as the Princess Nefertiri, beloved daughter of King Seti I. Was it the same thing happening to Catherine? Judging from the things that she had said, Evie wondered if she could be the reincarnation of the last High Priestess of Hathor.

She pushed that thought to the back of her mind, not wanting to bring it up with Catherine just yet. Reincarnation was a very delicate topic, and while she knew that Catherine would be open enough to such an idea - considering how easily she had accepted the story when Evie told her of her past life as Nefertiri - she didn't want to say anything until she was sure of it. I will have to bring this up with Ardeth when we meet, she promised to herself.

"So, what do you think?"

Evie snapped back to attention, and looked at Catherine. She smiled comfortingly. "I'm not really sure what to say, Cathy," she said sincerely. "I will have to talk to Ardeth about it. He might know something."

Catherine's face took on a troubled cast. "I don't mean to offend Evie, since I know he's your friend and all, but what would he know?"

"He knows a lot of things," Evie reassured. "And if can't provide the answers himself, he will be able to find someone who can. The Medjai are wise in many things, Cathy. You can trust in their wisdom, and in Ardeth's as well."

Catherine sighed. "Well, alright, if you say so." In spite of that, however, her face showed she was still very much perturbed, and Evie realized then that whatever it was that Catherine had seen, it had disturbed her on more than one level. While to Evie it seemed quite simple, and not nearly as violent as her own memories regarding that time, there was something else, something that perhaps Catherine had not mentioned or did not remember, that bothered her very much.

She mentally shrugged it off, knowing that at the moment, she was needed in the here and now. Ardeth would know the answers, she told herself. She could count on him to have the answers - if not him, then his fellow Medjai would know something.

In matters like this, only the Medjai would have the solutions.

* * *

They had camped at a small oasis in the middle of the desert, after a whole day of traveling through vast expanses of hot, arid sand and rock. It was a good thing that they had chosen camels; she doubted if horses could have carried them across the same distance, carrying the same load as the camels had.

Unless, of course, the horses had been bred and raised in this environment itself, as was the case with the horses of their Medjai escort.

Catherine stepped out of the warm confines of her tent, inhaling deeply of the cool night air. As she had expected, temperatures in the desert often swung between extreme heat and extreme cold, but here in the oasis, it was only pleasantly cool, a wonderful respite from the burning sun they had experienced that morning.

She looked around at the camp. Small fires burned here and there, casting a soft orange glow on the people who sat around them. Nearby, she saw Evie leafing through a book, her glasses perched rather precariously on her nose, and Rick was sitting next to her, loading his pistols and seeing to his vast cache of weaponry. Andrew, in the meantime, seemed to have taken to teaching Alex some basic moves in unarmed combat - just enough, she speculated, so that the boy could defend himself in case something happened. Jonathan, on the other hand, was watching the two; one hand wrapped around a wide flask that Catherine sensed contained an unknown but very strong liquor.

Off to one side, she saw the workers who had come with them - Egyptians, most of them, though in the firelight she also saw the ebony gleam of those who had come from further south of Africa. And further away, almost on the very edge of their little oasis, was the small troop of Medjai warriors who had come to escort them midway through their journey, led by Ardeth.

They were, by far, the most interesting folk she had ever encountered in Egypt. Their air of mystery and discipline was intriguing and appealing to her, since it vaguely reminded her of the martial discipline exuded by the warrior-monks in China. However, where the warrior-monks were serene and placid, the Medjai seemed more wary and alert, as if they expected something to go wrong at any given moment.

Even now they're tense, she mused as she watched them. Ardeth was standing up while his fellow warriors sat around him in a semicircle. The glow of the nearby fire etched their tattoos and their features in a marvelous contrast of light and shadow as they listened to their leader intently.

Ardeth's attitude as he spoke to them was controlled and commanding. The only movements he made came from his mouth as he spoke, and occasionally his hands, as he gestured to illustrate some important point or other. She presumed that he was giving orders to his men, because after a while, they nodded, and he dismissed them with a wave of his hand. The men stood up, and proceeded to perform whatever tasks had been assigned to them.

Ardeth, on the other hand, remained standing where he was. His face, which had seemed so hard only moments before, suddenly seemed to soften, and she saw his shoulders shift in a sigh, before he bowed his head slightly in weariness, touching his forehead as if trying to ward off an impeding headache.

She felt her heart go out to him, felt concern well up inside her. She had never seen anyone look as tired or as lonely as he did in that moment. She wondered briefly whether he had a wife, or some other similar person, who would look after him properly and keep him company.

And she wondered, in a moment as brief as the flickering of a candle flame before it goes out, if it would be a good idea to go over there and ask him how he was, to see if she could soothe him, comfort him, take care of him.

She shook her head fiercely. No, that is _not_ how it is going to be, she told herself. She and Ardeth were from completely opposite worlds: he had permanence and stability here in Egypt, and she, as an archeologist-adventurer, would probably never call anyplace home. She was, despite her hatred of her father, an English noblewoman, born to a life of privilege and comfort. Ardeth, in spite of his obviously high position amongst his people, lived a hard life, always fighting off those who wished to steal Egypt's treasures. He was an Arab, a Muslim, a believer in Allah. She was...did she even believe in a god in the first place?

She sighed at that. There were so many things, an infinite number of differences that she could not name, that told her she could not - should not - be attracted to Ardeth Bay of the Medjai.

But everything else - her heart, most especially - screamed at her that the exact opposite was the truth.

She felt as if eyes were upon her, and when she looked up, she saw Ardeth gazing at her from across the oasis. She did not allow herself to return his gaze for long; she quickly ducked back inside her tent, and tried to compose herself. She paced through the little tent, her thoughts whizzing and whirling through her mind, and soon realized, much to her frustration, that pacing and muttering to herself would get her nowhere.

I have to do _something_, she thought as she looked around at the objects in her tent. Normally reading would have been enough to calm her down, but the only books she had were the notes that she had made during her five-year expedition in Mexico, and she did not want to look at those. She considered approaching Evie to borrow one of her books, but then she remembered that, in all likelihood, Evie's books would be about Egypt, and that was the _last_ thing she wanted to think about, close as the subject was to Ardeth.

Her eyes roamed restlessly around the tent, before they finally settled on the scabbards that leaned against her duffel bag. An idea immediately clicked into her mind: maybe practicing her katas would keep her mind off of Ardeth - and off that vision she had on the boat, as well.

Without thinking twice of it, she picked up the scabbards, and toted them with her has she exited her tent. She scanned the area for a quiet, open area where she could swing her swords without cutting something up, and found it at the farthest end of the oasis, at the place where the tree line ended and the sand began. The only light source there came from the moon, but that was enough for her purpose.

She reached the spot in no time, and was glad to note that she was out of the sight of most of those at the camp - the Medjai included. Unsheathing her swords, she held one in each hand, and inhaled, calming herself. She prepared herself mentally, as Andrew had taught her to do.

In a few moments, the sounds of the world were drowned out by the steady beat of her heart. Although her senses continued to remain alert, she knew that once she had found her body's internal rhythm, she was ready to begin.

Soon, the silent air was filled with the singing of metal slicing through air, her footfalls adding a counterpoint to the soprano of her blades. All thoughts of Ardeth and visions disappeared as she became one with her weapons, one with the cosmos. She knew nothing beyond the simple realities of movement and air, of steel and moonlight.

And, for the moment, she knew peace.

* * *

He did not understand, could not comprehend, how she could appear so graceful and fluid, yet so deadly at the same time. Watching her move, he could only compare her to a cobra: deadly, yet hypnotic in its beauty.

He could hear the melody of her swords as she swung them through the air, could hear the whisper of her limbs against the night wind. He watched as she spun, kicked, thrust, and slashed at invisible enemies, as if battling creatures none but she could see.

What a fine Medjai warrior she could have made, Ardeth thought, allowing a small smile to curl on his lips at the thought. Indeed, if she could teach her fighting style to his men, they would be better able to protect the secrets that they had sworn to defend.

And yet, at the same time, he could not bear the idea of seeing her teach his men how to fight in the way she did. He would rather keep this sight to himself, so that he would not have to share her with anyone else.

She is not your wife Ardeth, he chided himself then. He could not think in such a manner. If she was his lover, yes, if she was his wife, certainly, but she was neither. She was a stranger to him, the friend of his friend's wife. What did he know of her that would make her suitable as a wife of the leader of the Medjai?

Enough, he admitted grudgingly to himself. She had spirit, courage, and willpower enough to command and be a leader of many people. She had the intelligence and cleverness necessary to survive - she was, after all, an adventurer, and had she not been clever she would have been dead a long time ago.

Moreover, he saw that she was a kind, gentle soul, in spite of the rough and hardened exterior she showed to the world. He had heard stories of her from Evelyn, how sweet and kind she was in childhood. He heard from Jonathan how her courage had often gotten him out of trouble when he was a boy. The Scotsman, Andrew, spoke of how much she loved her younger sister, Erica, who was currently studying at a boarding school in England.

_"When she cares for someone, she pours her entire heart, her entire soul, into loving that person,"_ Evelyn had told him earlier that evening. _"Admittedly, it has gotten her into her own fair share of trouble, especially when we were younger, but she does not regret a single thing she has ever done for someone she loves."_

It was then that he remembered something. Evelyn had told him that Catherine was having strange dreams, or visions. She supposed that they were of a past life, the same way it had been for her.

_"She's scared, Ardeth,"_ Evelyn told him, her eyes gazing apprehensively in the direction of Catherine's tent. _"She doesn't like admitting it, but she is, and I'm worried for her._ _I was hoping that, maybe, you could help her figure out what she saw, understand what it was. I've never seen her this thrown-off before, and it troubles me."_

He had encouraged Evelyn to tell him whatever it was that Catherine had told her, and she did. But the story left him puzzled and confused. He had indeed heard of the underground crypts in Dendera, but as far as he knew there was nothing to be worried about there. They had left Dendera alone because there was nothing there that was of any concern to the Medjai - at least, not in the same way that Hamunaptra and Ahm Shere were a concern. Just to be certain, he had sent a message by hawk to one of the tribes, hoping to have a certain wise woman of the Medjai named Farrah meet him at Dendera. He planned to talk to her about Catherine's dreams, and see if she knew anything of importance regarding Dendera and the crypts beneath the temple.

He realized then that he had to speak to Catherine of what Evelyn had told him. He stepped into the small clearing, revealing himself in the moonlight.

A soft gust of wind brushed past him, and before he knew it, there was cold steel lying against his throat.

He felt his blood cool slightly at the sensation, and berated himself for leaving his weapons back at the camp, but he kept all of that to himself. He looked at the gray orbs that were staring back at him from beyond the sword that lay against the thin, fragile skin of his neck. "You have no need to fear, Catherine. It is only I, Ardeth."

The eyes blinked at him, their owner obviously not comprehending his words at the moment. But a few seconds later, they cleared, and Ardeth felt a minute amount of relief as the blades were drawn away from his throat.

"Oh dear, I am so sorry Ardeth," Catherine murmured apologetically as she allowed her arms to slacken, the tips of her blades resting against the sand. "I didn't see you were there. Did I hurt you?"

Ardeth smiled, and shook his head. "You have done me no injury, Catherine." He slid his gaze to the swords at her sides. "Though I must admit, I never took you for a swordswoman."

Catherine offered a small smile. "Very few people do," she conceded, "but it does not bother me. I am more concerned about whether I will hurt someone accidentally when they sneak up on me while I am practicing."

"Then I am quite fortunate that your sense of control is good," Ardeth replied, "else my head would be rolling along the sand dunes by now."

That coaxed a laugh from her, though it was soft, and obviously not as wholehearted as it had been during her reunion with Evelyn. She shook her head, and murmured: "Now we would not want that, would we?"

"No, we would not." He paused a moment, looking at her, before he spoke again: "Evelyn told me about your vision."

Her head snapped up to look at him, and the expression on her face and the emotion in her eyes reminded him of some small, defenseless animal caught in a trap. Gone was the confident, graceful warrior-woman - now all he saw was something akin to a little girl that had just seen a very large spider.

Her voice seemed to tremble when she spoke. "What did she tell you?"

"Everything that you told her," he replied. He walked closer to her, noting the little glance that she threw over her shoulder, as if she was looking for an escape route.

After a few tense moments of silence, she sighed tiredly, her shoulders slumping forward a little in defeat. "She told me that you would somehow have the answers," she said. She looked up at him hopefully. "And…do you?"

He shook his head. "I do not." When he saw her shoulders slump further, he added: "But I have sent for someone to meet us at Dendera. Her name is Farrah, a wise woman of the Medjai. She knows all the stories, all the secrets of Egypt, and she knows how to interpret visions and dreams. If the message reaches her soon enough, we can expect to speak to her at Dendera tomorrow."

"Oh." She glanced up at him, and her eyes flickered to a different shade of gray now. "How come _you_ do not know all the secrets of Egypt? I though that, as the leader of the Medjai, you would know everything there is to know."

He chuckled, and shook his head. "That task is too great for me to accomplish. Yes, I am the leader of my people, but as such I have duties that need to be attended. I know a lot of things, but there are some things even I am not privileged to learn. Hence it is Farrah's duty, and the duty of her children, to remember the secrets of Egypt, lest they be lost and forgotten in the sands."

Catherine nodded, and it was obvious that her interest was piqued. "Really? They pass on their knowledge orally?"

"Yes."

"Why not just keep written records? Wouldn't it be easier to simply hand down books or scrolls?"

Ardeth smiled at her. "True, it would indeed be easier to do so, but there are dangers, as well. Documents can easily be stolen, or burnt. Farrah's knowledge is too sensitive as to allow transcription onto books or scrolls."

Catherine nodded in understanding. "I see." Her eyes took on a thoughtful cast as she gazed off into the distant sands. "Some secrets are simply too dangerous to write down."

Ardeth nodded in agreement, speaking no further. He gazed at the young woman beside him, noting how the sheen of her eyes mimicked the gleam of the moonlight on the edges of her swords.

And deep inside himself, Ardeth Bay swore, in the name of Allah and on his honor as a Medjai, that he would help her find the answers to her mysterious visions, as well as protect her when Andrew or any of the others could not. He closed his eyes briefly, murmuring his vow to the wind.

"Did you say something?"

He opened his eyes, and noticed Catherine looking up at him with a curious and concerned gaze. He shook his head. "It was nothing, I was simply praying." He gestured back to the oasis. "Come. It is getting late, and the night wind grows chill. You must sleep and rest to prepare for our journey tomorrow."

Catherine sighed. "Yes, I do suppose you are right." She sheathed her swords, and carried them with her as he escorted her back to her tent.


	10. Chapter Nine: Remembrance

**Chapter Nine: Remembrance**

"So Andrew and I made our way through the passageways as carefully as we could. If you think the Egyptians were very clever at setting booby traps, well, you have not had an encounter with an ancient Chinese fire pool (1)."

Alex gazed at Catherine, his eyes showing that he was held, completely and utterly, under the spell of her story. "A fire pool? How did they do that?"

Catherine shrugged. "I do not know, and neither does Andrew. We've never managed to figure out how the builders of the tomb managed to keep the oil in the pool they had constructed, since even oil can leach out of stone, eventually." She smiled, and winked. "And besides, Andrew and I were more concerned with making it across the fire pool than wondering how it was made."

Jonathan watched as his dear friend told his nephew more stories of her adventures. That girl is an endless source of them, he thought with an amused smile.

He was very glad that Catherine was back. It was the three of them together again, just like it had been in their younger years. Catherine was still as vivacious and lively as ever, still the same little firecracker that she had been as a little girl.

But there was something about her now that made Jonathan feel a little concerned about her. While he suspected that it was because she was grown up now, and more mature than she was in her younger years, she seemed to have this air of quiet melancholy about her, a constant darkened pall that was a sharp contrast from the Catherine that he remembered. He was not so sure if Evie had noticed it, but he had.

Jonathan did not notice his expression grow dark as he remembered the last summer that he and Evie had spent at the Ashlar country manor - the summer that had also been the last time they had ever spent quality time with Catherine...

_Jonathan winced as he heard the horrid retching sounds coming from the bathroom. Was Catherine really feeling **that** bad?_

_He glanced at his sister, who was sitting at the foot of Catherine's immense four-post bed - the bed that Evie and Catherine shared whenever the Carnahan siblings stayed over at the Ashlar manor during the summer. "What is wrong with her, Evie? Did she eat something bad last night?"_

_Evie looked up at him, her face reflecting her own worry. "I don't know," she murmured in response. "I mean, we ate the same things she did, didn't we? If it were bad food, then all three of us would be sick to our stomachs. But we aren't. So it must have be something else."_

_Just then, the door to the bathroom banged open, and Jonathan watched Catherine stagger out. She looked much paler than usual, and she looked rather gaunt. She wiped one hand across her mouth, while the other was firmly pressed against her stomach, as if to keep it in firm control._

_Evie immediately stood up, and went to Catherine's side. "Cathy, are you alright?"_

_At first Catherine did not respond, since she seemed too busy inhaling air. After a while, however, she managed to compose herself, and straighten up. "Yes... I think so." She squeezed her eyes shut, and swallowed. "I will be fine. Just... I've been feeling awful these past few mornings." _

_"We could tell," Jonathan said, a small, wry smile curling on his face. _

_Evie glared at him. "Jon, hush!" She turned once more to look at Catherine. "Are you sure you still want to go riding with us? We can stay closer to the house, if you'd like."_

_Catherine shook her head resolutely. "No, let's go out riding." She gave the two of them a smile so weak that to Jonathan, it seemed she had made such an immense effort to do it. "I wouldn't want to spoil the day for you, and maybe the fresh air and exercise will do me some good. And I will be fine by the afternoon - I always am."_

_Jonathan knew in his bones that she was lying, and he knew that Evie knew that too, but nevertheless, his sister nodded her head, and said: "Alright, if you say so. Now come on, I'll help you choose some riding clothes. Jon, could you please go to the stables and get our horses ready?"_

_Jonathan sighed, and nodded as he exited the room, leaving the two girls to do their business, while he headed over to the stables to prepare their mounts_.

He remembered how bad it had been: how Catherine seemed to get skinnier and skinnier, how she seemed to wither into a skeleton right before their eyes as the days passed. Perhaps realizing that their presence was tiring her out - and because the sight of her so weak and lifeless really did trouble the two of them - Jonathan and Evie decided to leave earlier than usual, to give Catherine some time to rest.

Jonathan sighed, recalling the conversation that he and Evie had on their way back to London, the day they left the manor - and Catherine - behind...

_"What do you think could be wrong with her?"_

_Jonathan turned his gaze to Evie, who was sitting across from him in the carriage. He sighed, and shook his head. "I really don't know, Evie. I cannot imagine what would make her so sick."_

_Evie sighed. "I know. She told me that she had talked to the doctor when he came over to check on her mother, but he said that there was nothing really serious about it, that what she was experiencing was all part of growing up."_

_"That's hogwash Evie. I mean, you and Cathy are more or less the same age, and do **you** wake up every morning feeling horribly nauseous?"_

_Evie raised an eyebrow. "How can you be so sure?"_

_"I'm not. It's just that...well, it doesn't seem natural, you know?" He moved in his seat so that he was facing his sister more fully. "You know how sometimes, you can tell whether something comes naturally to a person or not? Well, it's the same feeling I get with Cathy. Whatever it is she is going through right now, it is **not** natural." He frowned, and looked away, gazing out the window instead as the countryside rolled by. "Something is wrong with her, but I cannot really say what it is."_

_There was a pause, and when Evie spoke to break it, her voice was soft and wondering. "Do you think it could be her mother?"_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Well, try to follow me, if you will: Cathy and her mother are very close, correct?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Mrs. Ashlar is very ill, right?"_

_"She has been for quite a while, so yes."_

_"And you heard that Mrs. Ashlar's condition has been worsening, haven't you?"_

_"Yes." Jonathan looked once more at his sister. "Evie, I really don't understand what you are trying to get at here."_

_Evie's eyes seemed cloud with tears then, and her voice was slightly strangled when she spoke. "Jon, I think Mrs. Ashlar is dying."_

Had that been the reason, then? Was Catherine's illness really her body's way of expressing her grief at the possibility of losing her mother?

It was the most likely explanation. He learned from Catherine's letters to Evie that Mrs. Ashlar had died giving birth to Catherine's little sister, Erica, and that Catherine had fallen very ill from the grief of losing her mother. Jonathan would have wanted a chance to learn all about it from Catherine herself, but then his entire family relocated to Egypt, and the only times he heard of news from Catherine was from her letters to his sister.

Yes, it had to be that.

"I just have to ask this Jon: are you drunk?"

Jonathan snapped out of his stupor to see Rick looking at him with a questioning look. It took a while for Rick's words to register, but when they did, Jonathan replied indignantly: "I am _not_ drunk! I was merely thinking about something very important, if you must know."

Rick snorted. "Uh huh, yeah. And what'd that be?"

"I was thinking about Cathy," Jonathan replied, and his voice took on a serious tone. "I was just remembering the last time Evie and I had seen her."

Now that got Rick's attention. "You're not usually this somber," the American muttered. "What happened back then? Did you guys part on bad terms or something?"

"Oh no, no, we did not part on bad terms - quite the opposite, actually. It is just that the last time we saw each other, poor old Cathy was very sick. Her mum had been horribly ill the last time Evie and I visited Cathy at her family's manor, and Cathy was taking it really hard. When her mum died, I guess..." Jonathan shook his head. "I guess that was the last straw on Cathy's part. The poor thing really took it hard, losing her mum. Evie and I had intended to visit her one more time, but then we moved to Egypt, and that was the end of that. All the contact we've ever had with Cathy was through her letters to Evie - until now, of course."

Rick glanced over to where Catherine and his son were laughing over some joke or other that the woman had cracked. "She seems normal. Maybe she was able to recover from her grief."

"Maybe," Jonathan murmured.

Why was he worrying so much to begin with? His brother-in-law was right; it _did_ indeed seem as if Catherine was all right. It appeared as if she had moved past the grief she felt over her mother's death, and that she was now picking up the pieces of her life.

But that did not sufficiently explain why she had been so ill the last time they had seen each other. On hindsight, Jonathan could have labeled Catherine's symptoms back then as morning sickness, of the variation that takes hold of women during the early months of their pregnancy, but Catherine had been a teenager then, and completely single - no thanks to her father, of course.

Jonathan could not help but smile at the silliness of his own thoughts. Morning sickness? How absurd! No, it had to be something else - even though the theory that it was because of her grief that Catherine had been so sick did not completely hold water.

There was something else at work here, and though Jonathan had absolutely no idea about what was going on, he felt determined to find out - if only to understand why Catherine was no longer the same as she used to be.

* * *

Alex was not in the least bit impressed. Dendera did not look any different from the other dig sites that he had been to with his parents - except maybe this time, there were more of the Medjai around than he had expected. But he shrugged it off, thinking that maybe it was to make sure that _this_ time around, nothing went wrong.

I'd rather be in Mexico right now, he thought wistfully, remembering the stories that Catherine had told him. The idea of searching for ruins deep in the heart of a jungle appealed to him more than digging through sand, rock and dust.

"At least in a jungle it won't be as hot," he grumbled as he squinted briefly up at the sky. It was nearly high noon - the hottest part of the day. He quickly followed the grownups as they made their way towards the collection of tents nearby. He knew enough from visiting digs with his parents that it was never a smart thing to stand out in the midday sun for too long.

Up ahead of him, he saw his parents, Uncle Jonathan, Aunt Catherine, Ardeth and Andrew crowded around a rickety wooden table, on top of which was spread what looked like a map. Knowing that he would be welcomed either way, Alex squeezed himself in between his father and mother, the former placing a hand on his shoulder almost as if by instinct.

"The entrance to the crypts was said to have been here," Evie said, tapping a point on the map. As it turned out, the map was a piece of papyrus, detailing the layout of the Temple of Hathor, as it had been at the height of its glory.

Rick shook his head. "Yeah, but our tents are pitched right above that place, and the overseer told us there's nothing under here but rock."

Evie nodded. "True, and that does not surprise me, since that entrance collapsed during an earthquake. And even if we _did_ manage to pry through all that rock and open it up again, it would not lead us to our actual goal: the crypt of the High Priestesses."

Andrew spoke up then. "Do you mean to say that the High Priestesses had a separate crypt all to themselves?"

"Exactly," Evie replied with a smile. "It is said that the High Priestesses of Hathor were buried in a crypt separate from where the other priestesses were laid to rest. That crypt was buried deeper underground than the other one, which means that it is still intact."

"Our only problem, then," Catherine said, "is to find the _other_ entrance, correct?"

Evie nodded. "Yes, that is the problem we have to face. My sources tell me that there were two entrances: one inside the temple, and another outside it. However, these sources do not record the location of these entrances, so we will have to find them on our own."

"And what would that entail?" Ardeth asked.

"Well, we might have better luck finding the entrance inside the temple itself," Evie replied after a moment of thoughtfully tapping her finger against her lip. "As for the one outside, we might have to widen the area of our search, not simply limit it to the immediate temple area."

"I see. I will go and inform my men of today's plans." Ardeth nodded his head, and walked out of the tent.

There was a moment of silence, and then Andrew uttered a soft chuckle. "He's a strange one, that," he murmured, "but I like him, if only because he and I are almost the same."

Catherine raised an eyebrow at him teasingly. "At least he is not running away from whatever business needs to be taken cared of."

Instead of laughing, Andrew's lips seemed to thin slightly at that. "Lass, I thought you promised you would never talk of that."

Catherine bowed her head, and murmured something in a soft, apologetic tone, but she was too far away and her voice was too soft for Alex to catch what she had said.

An uncomfortable silence settled in, which Rick broke by saying: "Alright, since we know what we've got to do, let's get to it, shall we?"

Alex followed his parents as they walked out of the tent, but stopped at the entrance to watch Catherine and Andrew. Catherine seemed to be apologizing for something, and judging from his gestures, Andrew was telling her that it was nothing.

A few moments later, however, Ardeth came up to them, and though the Medjai greeted Andrew, he seemed more focused on Catherine. He said a few words to her, but whatever they were, they seemed to be rather troubling to Catherine, because she went quite pale. She nodded, and then said a few words to Andrew before she followed Ardeth to that part of the site where the Medjai had set up their camp.

Now Alex was _very_ curious. It had never occurred to him that Catherine and Ardeth would have any sort of business to do with each other.

And, as was often the case, his curiosity got the better of him, and he followed the two adults, ducking into tents and behind posts when necessary, to see what exactly was going on.

* * *

(1) – I really do not know if such things exist. If they do, forgive me for not using the proper term for such things, if ever the one I have used is not it.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:

**Belphegor** - Thank you for saying that this is one of the best Ardeth romances you have ever read. Although it is true that romance played a central role in _The Mummy_ and _The Mummy Returns,_ I do not wish to make it an all-encompassing thing. Moreover, I believe that I have found my niche in writing action/adventure stories that are sweetened with romance, rather than writing romantic storie peppered with action/adventure.

And regarding your grievance about the lack of Jonathan and Alex's presence, I have done my best to remedy that in this chapter, though this is mostly Jonathan's chapter, and him recalling what happened in the past. I have attempted to present a more serious side to Jonathan, and although I felt that it was something of a stretch, I would like to think that there is more to him that his simply being a drunkard, a gambler, and the source of comic relief.

Again, I would like to thank you for taking the time to read this story, as well as _More Things in Heaven and Earth._ Your comments are always very much appreciated.

**lilylynn** - As always, I would like to thank you for faithfully reading the chapters of this story that I put up, in spite of the fact that I do it rather slowly. I hope that you will forgive me for taking my own sweet time in writing, since I also have much to do for university.

Nevertheless, I would like to thank you for your constant and unerring support.


	11. Chapter Ten: Ancient Wisdom, Ancient Tru...

**Chapter Ten: Ancient Wisdom, Ancient Truths**

She followed Ardeth as he walked down the narrow spaces between the tents of the Medjai camp. There were a lot more of them here than there were at the oasis the night before, and strangely enough, the idea that there were so many Medjai around made her feel comfortable. At least, should something go wrong, they would be there to see to it.

The first thing she noticed about the camp was that it was arranged in an efficient manner - a military manner. There was easy access to the horses and camels just beyond the edge of the camp, and the smaller tents seemed clustered in a protective, yet orderly, formation around a grouping of larger tents near the middle.

She was familiar with such a camp arrangement - her expedition group had used it often enough, whenever they made camp in the jungle. However, back there they had been more worried about jaguars and other big cats coming into the camp and making a quick meal of them all. Here, they were more troubled about something much more powerful than the average jungle cat.

Ardeth finally came to a stop in front of one of the larger tents in the center of the camp. Unlike the others, which were made of some rough, dark cloth, this one seemed to have been made of finer materials. The flaps of the entrance were pulled back, but there was a curtain of merrily tinkling beads covering the way instead.

A few moments later, a young woman of around twenty or twenty-one emerged from the doorway. She was dressed in a loose, flowing top and trousers of dark blue cloth, while her face and hair were partially obscured by a diaphanous dark blue veil, studded in parts with tiny silver dots. Her eyes, the only feature of her face left clearly visible, were of a deep, onyx shade, but clear like obsidian, and slanted in that peculiar way that made women of Egyptian blood particularly beautiful - even if the rest of their bodies was veiled and swathed with cloth.

For a single, fleeting moment, Catherine felt rather jealous.

The young woman glanced up at Ardeth, and lowered her gaze immediately. "Lord Ardeth. You have come to see my mother?"

"Yes, Farida," Ardeth responded. He glanced briefly at Catherine. "I have brought someone who wishes to ask for her advice."

"Ah, and that would be the English baroness, would it not?"

The voice that said those words was different: deeper, more commanding, but still feminine. Another figure emerged from the shadowy depths of the tent: it was a woman, dressed in the same style and colors as the young woman Ardeth had called Farida, but she was not veiled like the latter. Her eyes were dark, but they did not have the clarity of Farida's. Instead, they seemed shadowed and shrouded: the eyes of someone who had seen too much, and knew too much.

Ardeth bowed respectfully to the older woman. "Lady Farrah, thank you for coming here when I asked."

"It is an honor to be of service to you, Lord Ardeth," Farrah said, lowering her eyes and tipping her head downwards slightly in her own form of a bow. She turned her gaze to Catherine. "Are you, then, the lady whom Lord Ardeth spoke of?"

Catherine nodded, and, unsure of what to do, bowed herself. "Yes, I suppose I am. My name is Catherine Ashlar, but please, call me Catherine."

Farrah nodded, waved her hand. "Come inside then, Lord Ardeth, Lady Catherine."

* * *

She smiled to herself as she walked into the interior of her tent, heading for that part that she used when dealing with guests. She caught sight of her son, Javed, sitting in one corner of the room, his eyes intent on the scroll of papyrus that he had unrolled on his knees. When he looked up at her, she waved her hand in a gesture that indicated he should leave the area, and in the meantime, bring in something for their guests to drink.

Javed blinked once, twice, and then nodded. He rolled the scroll up, and then headed towards another area of the tent just as Ardeth and the young woman whom Ardeth had called Catherine came in.

Farrah looked at the girl with a critical eye. She was tall, even for a Western woman, and rather thin, as if she had not been eating well at all. In spite of that, however, she had a few beautiful qualities. There was a delicacy in her features that was quite pleasing, and her eyes were remarkable: as gray as the clouds when the nourishing spring rains come to water the desert and renew the cycle of life.

She smiled at Catherine, seeing the discomfort on her face. "Please, sit," she said, indicating the chairs that were positioned around a nearby table.

Ardeth did as she asked immediately, and Catherine did the same, though with a little bit of hesitation. Farrah smiled kindly at the young woman as she, too sat down. "Lord Ardeth has asked me to come here because you had an unusual dream. In my family, it is a duty handed down, from mother to daughter, to keep all the secrets of the Medjai from when the Pharaohs yet ruled these lands until the present."

"Can you truly give me the answers I am looking for?" Catherine asked softly, and when she looked up at Farrah the wise woman could see that her eyes were turbid, like the surface of a lake disturbed by raindrops.

Farrah smiled. "I cannot promise to give you definite answers, for no human being can do that unless they are touched by Allah. All I can give you are explanations."

Catherine gave a small smile, but it did nothing to lift the perturbed expression that had settled on her face. "If that is all you can give me, then that will be enough. It's certainly much better than knowing nothing, after all."

Farrah nodded her head. "Very well then. Tell me of your dream."

And so she did. Farrah listened with closed eyes to the story that Catherine told her, and it was as if she could see the scenes in her mind, seeing them against the dark backdrop of her closed eyelids. And as listened, she felt a dark foreboding creep over her heart.

"And…that is all I can remember."

Farrah opened her eyes again, and looked at Catherine. "I see. Before I go further, I must ask: what do you think of the idea of reincarnation?"

Catherine blinked once, but she replied: "I do not discredit it, though I do find it a little hard to believe. Evie...Evie says that she is the reincarnation of an Egyptian princess named Nefertiri, and Evie would never lie."

Farrah frowned. This was going to be a problem, but since she had come for answers, she would have them. "Then I do not know if you will accept what I am about to say, but I shall say it, regardless. It is possible that you are the reincarnation of a High Priestess of Hathor, the one who was named Meritites. She was leader here, in Dendera, during the reign of Pharaoh Seti the First."

"Then why is it that I do not remember anything?" Catherine paused, and her brow furrowed. "Evie told me that when she regained her memories of her life as Nefertiri, everything came flashing back to her immediately."

"When Lady Evelyn got her memories back, the process was induced by Imhotep's magic," Farrah replied. "Such memories do not come back immediately, all at once. If that were the case, then the one remembering would quite possibly go mad. No, Lady Evelyn's case was the exception, not the rule: she is a very strong woman, that she was able to regain all her memories of that time. In your case, these memories are returning to you gradually. That is the normal way of things."

Catherine nodded. "I see." Another small smile crossed her face. "I do not quite understand why these memories are coming back to me, or what they are about, but... I hope that they are nothing too worrisome."

"I pray that that is the case." But Farrah knew that her words belied what her heart told her. She had felt it the moment she had set foot here in Dendera: something that had been slumbering for ages was once again beginning to stir, and though it was nothing like Imhotep or the Scorpion King, it was troubling nevertheless.

But there was no time for that now. For all she knew, what she was thinking was nothing more than her imagination over-extending itself. She focused instead on the light of the fact that this young woman could possibly be the reincarnation of the priestess Meritites.

A small smile curled on her lips as she glanced at Ardeth. Hmmm, perhaps I am not too far off, she thought as she looked once more at Catherine. "May I have a look at your hands, Lady Catherine?"

Catherine blinked, surprised. "My hands? What for?"

"I would like to read your palms - if you do not mind, of course."

"Oh, no, I do not." Though she did so hesitantly at first, Catherine extended her hands to Farrah, the palms facing upwards.

Farrah smiled her thanks, and glanced down at the young woman's palms. Immediately, her brow furrowed. "I was right," she murmured, tracing the lifeline on Catherine's right palm. "You have lived before. This is not the first time that your soul has come back through the reaches of time to walk upon this earth once again. You are an old soul, older than you appear to be."

A small, sardonic smile appeared on Catherine's face. "I certainly _feel_ old. That must explain it then."

Farrah glanced up at her, and she, too, wore a knowing smile on her face. "That may be it." Once more, she focused on Catherine's palm. "You have been wandering as well, and for two reasons: to protect something that you swore to protect, even beyond death, and to find someone - the one whom you gave your heart to long, long ago."

She glanced up, and there was no denying the blush that tinted Catherine's cheeks. She did her best not to smile. So she was right, all along.

Catherine laughed softly, and nodded. "Well, I suppose that you are right, about the second part, at least. I guess I _have_ been looking for someone, but... It has been rather difficult."

"You should not look for love; it will be love that finds you," Farrah said, reciting an old truism that had happened more than once to the people around her. She wrapped her fingers around Catherine's, and folded them over the young woman's palms, pushing her hands back to her. "I must have some time alone to think about everything that you have told me. If you have another dream, please, do not hesitate to come here and tell me about it. The more you tell me, the easier it will be to find out what they are all about."

Catherine smiled - a genuine one this time - and nodded. "I will, I promise." She looked at Ardeth, and said, "Do you mind if I leave? I have to go and meet up with Evie: I promised her I'd meet up with her to do the initial survey of the dig site."

Ardeth shook his head, and stood up as well to escort her to the exit of the tent.

When they were gone, Farrah shook her head, and smiled to herself. "You do not look for love; it finds you," she murmured to herself. She smiled again, and allowed herself a small laugh.

Yes, love _did_ find a person - and sometimes, it was to be found in the most unlikely of places.

* * *

NOTES:

Forgive me for the very long delay in getting this chapter up. A lot of things - other fan fiction pieces included - have gotten in the way, along with school. My Muse is of the most fickle sort, and does not wish to remain on one story for very long; hence, this has been placed on the back burner for a while.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:

**Belphegor** - I am glad that you are pleased with the previous chapter. And yes, Alex is a most curious little boy - something that has gotten him in trouble, as was seen in the second movie. Catherine's past is quite important, as was shown in this chapter, but there is something in the more recent past that is of great importance as well. But I shall speak no more of it, since that will involve making spoilers.

Nevertheless, I thank you for taking the time read this story, and for your continued support. I hope that you did not mind the long time that I did not update this story, and I hope that you will keep on reading in spite of the long lapses that I do not post.

**Lilylynn** - Again, I thank you for your continuing support. Your reviews are always much appreciated.

**Lady sernna Valerious** - Thank you for taking the time to read my story. I hope that you enjoy this one as much as you enjoyed the others, and I hope that you did not mind the long delay in updating.


	12. Chapter Eleven: Painful Recollections

**Chapter Eleven: Painful Recollections**

_The scent of wine and roasted meat hung thick and heavy in the air, mingling with the perfume of incense smoke as it rose to the sky. The sound of laughter and music and revelry echoed back to her from the courtyard beyond; she could hear the melody of the lutes, flutes and double pipes, accompanied by the deep, hypnotic sound of drums._

_She closed her eyes, and allowed herself to be carried away by the music, drifting on the cresting notes and sounds as she leaned against one of the pillars in the inner sanctuary of the temple. Tonight was the culmination of a weeklong celebration held in honor of Hathor, and everyone who had come - devotee and priestess alike - had thrown aside all reserve and propriety. After all, would Hathor not be more pleased the more they cavorted and made merry?_

_She allowed herself a small smile, and she shook her head. Few knew the reason why they celebrated these things. Few knew why they made so many offerings of food, wine, dance and music to Hathor. Few knew the dark secret that lay beneath the smiling and benevolent face of the goddess._

_She bowed her head, and once again the heavy weight of responsibility rested upon her shoulders. As long as the secret was never known to the world, and as long as there was someone to guard it, then all would be well._

_She heard soft footsteps padding in her direction, and when she looked up, what she saw made her smile, and forget all her worries and her cares._

_He stood in the entryway, his muscles rippling beneath the sheathing of tanned skin that covered his body. He was clad in almost nothing, save for the short military kilt that was a part of the uniform of the Medjai, and the hempen sandals on his feet. Standing before him, dressed as she was in the garb of the High Priestess of Hathor, she felt so encumbered and weighed down by the robes and the jewelry. All of a sudden, she wanted to be wearing nothing more than the thin linen shift she used when she slept._

_And yet, he smiled, and slowly walked to her, his head held high, though his eyes burned with fires brighter than the ones blazing in the braziers before the statues of the gods. "Who is this goddess, who stands before me, radiant as Isis and fair as Hathor?"_

_"And who is this god, who comes to me, powerful as Ra and handsome as Horus?" She smiled, and lifted her hand to him, beckoning. "Would he take my hand? Would he come to me, and hold me that my breast may press against him, and our hearts speak to each other of mutual desires?"_

_His eyes twinkled, and his lips parted in a smile, revealing even white teeth that contrasted against the dark hair that framed his sensuous mouth and traced the edge of his jaw. He clasped her hand in his, and with one tug, pulled her into his embrace. _

_She felt her knees turn to water as his arms twined around her, his hands pressing her against his warmth. When he spoke, his voice was pitched low, filled with an intensity that drowned all other sounds: "Would you stay with me? Would you take me with you to your chambers?"_

_"I will," she responded breathlessly, unable to keep her heart from beating rapidly and erratically. How long had she waited for this night? How long had she watched him, and he her, the days passing by in agonizing slowness while she served as Hathor's representative at Pharaoh's court in Thebes? How long had it been since the time she had heard from her dear friend Nefertiri that Pharaoh would not be the one spending the last night of Hathor's festival in the chambers of the High Priestess? How long, since the time when she learned that he would be Pharaoh's representative, carrying out this most important duty in Pharaoh's stead?_

_She had never known a man, not in this manner. She had come to the Temple of Hathor a young maid, and when she was made High Priestess six moons ago, she was still such. And now, the first time that she would fulfill her duty to the goddess on this, the high point of her festival, it would also be the first time that a man would break the seal of virginity imposed upon her since she came into the world - and that seal would be broken by the man she loved._

_His lips pressed against her throat, the slips of flesh sparking warmth throughout her body. She shut her eyes, and clasped his shoulders, his name emerging from her mouth as a whisper heavy with longing: "Ramose..."_

_He drew back then, and she could see the obsidian depths of his eyes flickering and flashing, almost as if they had a light of their own. He leaned forward again, and she felt his breath upon her lips just before he kissed her, saying her name: "Meritites..."_

She opened her eyes, half-expecting to find herself lying beside him. But when she felt the space beside her, she realized that he was not there, and that it had all been a dream.

She sighed, and rolled over onto her side, curling up beneath the blanket that protected her from the desert cold. Outside, she knew that the night still lay heavy over the wilderness, though the moon had long since disappeared from the horizon to make way for the coming of the sun.

Her thoughts once more drifted back to the dream, and she shivered as she remembered the look that the man - Ramose - had given her. No one has ever looked at me like that before, she thought, and the image of his eyes, so dark, yet burning with fire, made a small ache flower in her belly.

She curled her knees up against her chest, as older, less pleasant pains came back to haunt her. She had never imagined, after that incident, long ago, that she would ever want to be touched by a man. The last time that had happened, it had been too horrible, too painful...

She whimpered involuntarily as images flashed through her mind. She remembered the thick velvet canopy of her bed, remembered the way that the heavy drapes had been pushed aside. She remembered the dread silhouette of the dark shadow as it hovered over her, the way that shadow pushed her down against the mattress with an inexorable weight she could not defy. She remembered the hand that pinned her wrists above her head, while the other clamped itself over her mouth, preventing any screams, cries, or whimpers from leaving her lips. And then she remembered the sharp, lancing pain that seemed to cut her very soul in two...

She jerked when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Flipping onto her back, she grasped the wrist of the one who had touched her, and twisted it at an angle that she knew would cause the most discomfort.

She heard a masculine yelp, which was followed by words uttered between teeth gritted against the pain: "Easy Cathy, it's just me!"

Catherine gasped, and let go, as Andrew's features registered in her mind. She sat up, and moved towards him, concerned. "Oh God, Andrew, I'm so sorry..."

The Scotsman chuckled ruefully, though there was still the trace of a grimace of pain as he rubbed his wrist with his free hand. "You're getting quicker lass. Had someone else done the same thing I had, you might very well have broken their wrist."

Catherine bowed her head in embarrassment. "I know. I'm sorry, I was having a bad dream."

"I could tell." Andrew gazed at her for a moment, and then sat down, cross-legged, in front of her. "Would you mind telling me what it was?"

Catherine shook her head. "I... I don't want to talk about it."

Andrew sighed, and nodded. "Alright then, if that is how you want it." He looked at her with a thoughtful gaze. "You know, I can't help but wonder sometimes, about what happened between you and the Baron."

"We promised never to talk about that," Catherine said.

"I know, I know, and I promised that I'd never ask, but that does not stop me from thinking about it." He sighed, and held her hand, in that companionable fashion that had sprung up between the two of them in the span of time that they had been working together. "A part of me wants to know how he could have hurt you so badly that you swore you'd never go back to England." He grinned. "Natural curiosity on my part, I guess, but mostly because you are my friend, and I have a right to fuss over you from time to time."

Catherine uttered a small laugh, and squeezed his hand. "I know that you are curious, Andrew, but I think that it is best - for all of us - that you did not know what happened between me and my father." She grinned mischievously as she nudged him. "In the same way that you will not tell me about why you really left Scotland and ran halfway around the world."

Andrew grimaced, and shook his head. "As I said, it's not something I like talking about. Just let it be known that whatever it is I'm trying to get away from, it's not something that makes me very happy."

"Then we're not that much different, you and I," Catherine murmured.

Andrew nodded his head, and then turned to her, lightly nudging her chin upwards. "I know. Now cheer up, lass. Being sad really does not suit you."

Catherine could not help but smile. Andrew had a way of bringing her spirits up during these bouts when the past that she would much rather forget caught up with her, and for that she would be eternally grateful. "Thank you, Andrew."

"Always glad to be of service, lass."

* * *

"Oh, these paintings are marvelous..."

Evie grinned, not looking at Catherine, since she too was inspecting the wall paintings of the newly uncovered wing of the Temple of Hathor. "Stunning, aren't they? The ancient Egyptians really put quite a bit of effort into their artwork, especially when they were of a religious nature."

Catherine nodded, her eyes tracing the elegant lines and patterns. "And they are not quite as...gruesome as the Mayan temple paintings. At least the Egyptians did not depict human sacrifices."

Evie looked at her best friend, a horrified expression on her face. "_Human_ sacrifices?"

Catherine nodded solemnly. "Oh yes, they did. Their most common sacrifices involved drowning the victims in sacred wells." (1) She shuddered slightly. "You cannot imagine how horrifying it was. Andrew and I tried dredging one of the sacred wells, since we thought that there would be artifacts at the bottom, but all we brought up were skulls and bones. Oh, certainly, we did find a few items of value, since it would seem that the sacrificial victims were dressed up beautifully in gold and textiles, but still..." She shook her head sadly.

Evie nodded. There was no more horrible fate for anyone than to be offered up as a sacrifice. And she should know: she had been in the position of sacrificial victim twice.

They passed through a portico, and soon, they found themselves standing in the inner sanctum of the temple, as indicated by the granite altar in the middle of the room, standing in front of a magnificent statue of the goddess Hathor. Here, the paintings were at their most beautiful, and depicted scenes of women dancing and playing upon musical instruments, the colors almost as brilliant and as pristine as the day they had been painted.

Evie uttered a soft gasp. She had never seen murals so well preserved, and with such exquisite detail. She approached the walls with reverence, almost as if she was a novice priestess seeing these images for the first time - a privilege given only to those who were about to be induced into the order itself.

A soft rumble sounded behind her. Evie turned to look, and watched with horror as Catherine, as if in a dream, walked down a set of stairs that had been hidden on the pediment immediately in front of Hathor's statue, revealed when a slab of stone slid to one side.

"_Cathy!_"

* * *

(1) Drowning in sacred wells was one of the forms of sacrifice used by the ancient Mayans. These sacrifices were often offered to the rain god, Tlaloc.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:

**Dawn1** - Thank you for commenting on my story, and no, I have not given up on it. Updates may be sporadic, since I have other projects that have a tendency to lure me away from this one, but rest assured, I shall continue to update whenever I can.

**Lilylynn** - As always, I thank you for your continued support of this story, even if my updates are not regular and are often far between. I hope that you like this chapter as much as you have liked the others. Again, thank you very much.

**Lometari** - I thank you for reading this story, even if, as you say, it is only now that you have gotten around to reading it. Thank you for saying that you like Catherine, and that you like the way I write Ardeth. They are a joy to write, to be honest, and it is always comforting to know that others appreciate how I have written them.

**HighHedgehog** - Thank you for commenting, and for saying that you find it interesting. I hope that you shall continue to read it even if my updates are not as frequent as some people may like.

**Belphegor** - Thank you again for taking the time to read this story, as well as to offer critique - something that I find very important and appreciate greatly.

I was not sure what to use when it came to modes of address amongst the Medjai, so just to be safe, I used "Lord" and "Lady." Thank you for saying that you liked Faridah and Javed; I did not think that a woman like Farrah would be without children, not when one considers the fact that she has to pass on the knowledge that she keeps in her head on to someone in order to preserve it.

And yes, Catherine is a reincarnation of the last High Priestess. As for your hunches, I think I have an inkling of what you are thinking about (both the sordid and not-so-sordid one), but I am not about to reveal what it is, exactly. But fear not: all shall be made clear later on in the story.

I hope that you will forgive me for the delay; school and a frivolous Muse all get in the way of the creative process.


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